


Herald of Heroes

by Ghostie_11, Stingythefish



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, relationships will be added in book 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24120010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostie_11/pseuds/Ghostie_11, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stingythefish/pseuds/Stingythefish
Summary: Izuku Midoriya, a darkeyes with no future other than being the servant of a brightlord, has always dreamed of joining the knights radiant. An organization of honorable fighters with magical abilities who time and time again saved the world from the desolations, but betrayed humanity 2000 years ago and havent been seen since.After meeting a strange but noble traveller with knowledge on things that have been lost to scholars for centuries, Izuku finally has a chance for his dream to come true.Where Izuku gets to meet one of his heroes, Bakugou is a darkeyes who joined the military and earned himself a shardblade, Todoroki is a highprince being stalked by shadows, Momo is a royal ward haunted by visions, and Mina... well you get to learn about her later ;)An alternate universe wherein the Stormlight Archive characters are replaced by My Hero Academia characters. This will not be following the plot of the original SA books, despite the first two chapters, and though it uses similar premises it will diverge pretty heavily from what happens in Brandon's books. (Also there will be many lore assumptions on our part, because Brandon Sanderson is a jerk and won't tell us all the juicy lore details)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 26





	1. Prelude

Ryuko forced herself up against the will of her legs, exhaustionspren streaming off of her and dragged herself across the field. What once was a fairly barren landscape, littered with rockbuds and the occasional scavenging cremling, was now covered in the bodies of her allies and voidbringers alike. The varieties of blood mixed together and had seeped into the fabric of her armour, dyeing it in oranges, reds, and violets. 

She acknowledged the salute of a Truthwatcher who was attempting to heal a soldier, wreathing and moaning in pain. He suffered from a unique wound, his legs appearing crushed and bent in all the wrong places.

_ Probably from a thunderclast, _ She thought to herself.  _ Even with the help of a Truthwatcher, only the Almighty knows if a man could recover from a wound like that. I’ve certainly died from similar ones in the past.  _

Ryuko shuddered thinking about it. Not the dying, but what came afterwards. The reality she would have to face yet again now that the battle was over. That fiery place, where her body would be subjected to endless pain, for what always felt like an eternity. Though she’d evaded death this time, she would still have to return there. A part of her just wanted to… not go. But she couldn’t, no matter how good it sounded in her mind.

A figure stood a distance ahead, on a mound of risen rock. As Ryuko approached, she recognized All Might, their leader. He looked tired, weary, worn. Before him, seven honorblades were embedded in the ground.

Ryuko frowned in confusion. “All Might...what is this?”

He met her eyes, and the same pain, the same exhaustion which threatened to overcome her even now was reflected in his glowing irises. “We came to a decision, while you were gone. The others have left; I elected to stay behind to inform you.”

“A decision…” Ryuko repeated, turning her gaze again to the circle of blades in the ground. A dawning realization came to her, and she felt her heart stop for a moment. “You don’t mean… the Oathpact?”

“It was a tough choice,” All Might replied, his voice almost resigned. “But we couldn’t go through that anymore.”

“But...what will that mean for--”

“Only one of us died this time,” All Might interrupted. 

Ryuko nodded. Taishiro had valiantly defended a pass, dying in the process. Still, she found it incredible that nearly all of them had made it this time.

All Might continued. “As long as he stands, the Oathpact is not broken.”

Ryuko frowned. “Are you sure? How can you know that?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But I can only hope. It’s hope or commit to going back to that place.” He shivered, and Ryuko knew he felt the same way she did. They all did. “Perhaps I can do more good here, on Roshar, than up there, as nothing more than an unstable seal.”

“I…” What to say to that? “So we leave him behind? To bear that cruel fate alone?”

Regret and shame passed across his face, and he looked away. “I never wanted to do this, not to him. But he’s never fallen before. He has the best chance of surviving. Who knows, perhaps he won’t succumb, like we all have.”

All Might summoned his honorblade, holding it aloft. “We have all come to this decision, detestable though it is. Will you join us?”

_ Join them? _ How could she make such a choice? Either go back to being tortured endlessly, or leave their friend to bear the brunt of it by himself. To be a heroic sacrifice, or a coward. Ryuko recalled that place again, and the echoes of the pain she experienced there flashed through her mind. Could she really go back there, especially now, when given the opportunity to walk away from it entirely?

_ I’m sorry, _ she thought, a silent prayer to the friend they were abandoning. A tear trickled down her cheek as she summoned her honorblade. Together, she and All Might jammed the blades into the ground, nearly completing the circle.

“Now what?” Ryuko asked.

All Might turned, his eyes finding the distant horizon. “Now, we are free. Free to live how we want. Do what we wish. I’m not entirely sure what I will do...but I know that I will make up for the fate I have subjected Fatgum to. I am Roshar’s protector, even now.” He turned back, once again meeting Ryuko’s eyes. “It was an honor, serving alongside you, Ryuko. I shall take my leave, now.”

He left her, there, striding off into the distance.

Ryuko turned to the circle of honorblades in the ground. She’d done it. She’d abandoned the Oathpact. What would this mean for Roshar? For her fellow Heralds? Would the enemy be freed, because of what they’d done?

As her mind raced, her eyes found the spot in the ground not occupied by a blade. The one that belonged to their friend, the only one who’d died, the one who would carry the fate of the world on his shoulders.

She turned on her heel and walked away from that place.


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What...what are you?” The poor man whimpered.
> 
> “Me?” Stain replied. “I am...justice.”

Stain-son-no-one, Truthless of Shinovar waited to break a treaty. His masters ordered that for now he stay by their sides amidst the dancing and feasting. Though he took no part in it, electing to melt into the background and take in his surroundings. The Parshendi were the ones who knew about the King’s schedule, and so Stain did as he was told. 

The party took place in a room encased by large stone walls and floors. It disgusted Stain to do the same as a stonewalker, to be a Truthless standing on the souls of his people. But he’d committed sin after sin and obeying his masters was his only way to repent. And so he would continue to betray his holy traditions. 

Tonight Stain would be committing one of the worst crimes one could as a Shin, but it may be one of his greatest acts to atone for his sins. He wouldn’t just be obeying the will of his masters, but in doing so would be freeing the world of a great evil. 

A new firepit was lit, combusting upwards; appearing to consume the ceiling, shaking Stain out of his thoughts. The drummers changed to a much faster beat that reverberated through Stain’s very soul. Several Alethi Brightlords sitting at the table to Stain’s left became excited with the new rhythm and got up in their intoxicated states from feasting on red and sapphire wines all night to make a pathetic attempt to join in on the dancing.

 _These disgusting Alethi rulers are constantly at war with one another while claiming to be unified. Tonight they dance together but tomorrow they will be sending soldiers to their deaths for yet another petty competition,_ Stain shook with anger thinking about it. _People like them need to all be eradicated._

His masters, the Parshendi sat to his right. They typically had black or white skin with marbled streaks of oranges and reds across. They were strange, especially compared to their docile cousins the Parshmen. They were sentient for one, had protruding exoskeletons, and spoke to one another in a humming sort of language. 

They partook in a minimal amount of the festivities and showed commendable amounts of modesty while watching the Alethi continue to make fools of themselves. 

A messenger emerged from the crowds and whispered to one of Stain’s masters. The Parshendi turned and nodded in his direction. That was the signal Stain was waiting for. 

Stain got up from his place near the wall and moved forward, passing by the young prince Shouto, heir to the throne, and his lesser known sister Fuyumi, attempting to entertain their guests with the absence of their father. It was a surprise to see Shouto still up and not Enji Todoroki considering he looked around 13 and it was most definitely past the boy’s bedtime. The middle child of the three, Natsuo appeared missing from the party but from what Stain had learned from his master’s research, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. The Queen of Alethkar, Rei Todoroki, who isn’t much of a public figure and is often shadowed by her dominating husband, also was in her bedchambers. 

As Stain moved around the edge of the party, trying to reach his destination in quick time, he noticed two figures moving through the crowd, also heading in the direction of the exit. 

The ardent was a tall and slim man who surprisingly had a full head of dark hair with blond streaks, likely signifying Iriali ancestry. The other was Alethi and just dressed in plain commoner's clothes, but had the build of a fighter, with the lower half of his face covered by a simple cloth mask. They were both very alarmed, constantly looking around them and were in a rush.

Stain kept an eye on them and followed closely as they left the party, preparing for any sort of confrontation. _Could they be here with the same goal as me? I’ll kill them before they can do anything; it’s my job alone to cleanse the world._

Thankfully they turned and headed in the opposite direction, leaving the palace. 

Stain continued on his path, taking note of the murals carved into the walls of the winding hallways. They depicted the tyrannical and murderous shardbearers who ruled Alethkar for centuries before it broke apart. It was disgusting how the Alethi worshipped those who had murdered thousands upon thousands of innocents. 

Well, at least he would rid Roshar of one of the worst of their number tonight. 

He strode down the hall, noting the infused gemstones on the walls, providing light. Yet another display of arrogance from the Alethi; they paraded their currency out in the open, as if daring others to steal it. Stain ignored them for the time being, keeping his focus on the guards. There weren’t all that many out here, away from the party, which would work to his advantage. He kept his head down, adopting the posture of a servant, hoping none would question him.

Eventually he was far enough from the party. It was time to put into action part of his masters’ request. Eyeing a pair of guards up ahead, he breathed in. Stormlight from the gemstones on the walls rushed to him, seeping into his body, and he felt himself come alive with its presence. The guards, who had up until now been casually resting upon their spears, suddenly jerked to attention, gawking at him in awe. Stain continued to breathe in, draining the hallway of all its light, until only he glowed.

Then, he summoned his blade. It appeared suddenly in his hand, glistening with moisture, a beautiful weapon. The guards recognized this, at least, one of them calling for alarm, shouting that a shardbearer was assaulting the king’s palace. Stain grinned. Now, his mission began for real.  
He dashed forward, swinging the blade at the first guard. The man attempted to block it with his spear, though the action was futile; Stain’s blade tore through both the weapon and the man’s torso. His clothing tore, but his skin remained unblemished, his eyes burning away in his skull. He dropped to the ground, dead, his companion staring in horror.

“What...what are you?” The poor man whimpered.

  
“Me?” Stain replied. “I am...justice.”

Behind him, a group of guards had responded to the call to arms, rushing down the hall to attack Stain. He quickly stepped around the remaining guard, and pressed his palm to the man’s backside. Willing Stormlight out of him and into the guard, Stain Lashed the man to a distant point on the horizon, in the direction of the oncoming reinforcements. The guard’s sense of gravity now altered ninety degrees, he fell down the hallway as though it was an elevator shaft, dropping onto his companions, cracking bones and causing men to cry out in terror. Stain felt bad he had to subject the common soldiers to his justice, when they were innocent--but his masters’ orders were absolute, and he was obliged to follow them. Anyhow, he was the one in the right here. Enji Todoroki had single handedly killed countless of soldiers in his war effort to unite Alethkar. He never did it for his people but only for his pride and ambition. If killing some bystanders would allow Stain to hold Enji accountable, then he would bear the burden of that guilt.

Allowing the men to recover somewhat, Stain moved on, heading for the king’s chambers. He wasn’t certain where his target would be, but there was a safe bet, and he knew the evacuation route the murderous fiend would take from that location. The guards sloppily attempted to follow him, and he deliberately let them catch up. Raising his blade, he began to shear through the poor men, slicing through limbs, necks, bodies, killing guards left and right, leaving others with numb, non-functioning appendages. The guards began to cower, pulling back from him. _Maybe I’m being too intimidating,_ Stain thought.

Guards began to appear from the other direction, and, unfettered by the fear Stain had instilled in the other group, they began to jab at him with their spears. He let them pierce his skin, drawing blood, giving them confidence. The Stormlight healed the wounds immediately, and Stain, taking advantage of their growing assuredness, suddenly gave himself a half Lashing upwards, balancing out the gravity acting upon him, leaving him weightless. He pushed lightly off the floor, and Lashed himself to the far end of the hallway. He fell over the heads of the second group of guards, letting his shardblade slide through their heads, killing them in a line before landing in a crouch on the wall behind them.

They cried out at the sudden attack, many obviously unsure of what to make of his strange abilities. Releasing his Lashings, Stain dropped to the ground again, and pressed his hand to the ground, willing Stormlight into it. The stone began to burn away, crumbling brick by brick, until the floor beneath the guards disintegrated, and they tumbled to the ground below them. Stain hated to use that power on hallowed stone, but he had forsaken everything when he’d left Shinovar; what was the destruction of stone at this point?

A hole now interrupted the floor on this side of the hallway, and the first group of guards seemed at a loss for what to do about this new obstacle in their way. I hope I didn’t overdo it, Stain thought. He was supposed to cause as much destruction and death as possible. If he scared away the guards, he wouldn’t be able to fulfill this order.

Suddenly, the sounds of clanking footsteps came from a ways down the hall, near where the king’s chambers were. Stain turned; a man outfitted in Shardplate appeared from around a corner, a shardblade of his own in his hand. _So they’ve decided to give me a real challenge, have they?_ Stain grinned.

“You dare try to kill me on this day, when everything was going so perfectly?” The shardbearer cried out, his voice booming. “I shall make sure you pay gravely for this, assassin!”

Stain frowned. Kill him? His orders weren’t to kill a random brightlord, they were to--

 _Wait_. “You’re...the king?”

The shardbearer guffawed, loud and raucous. “None other. You wanted me, yes? Well do your best. I’ve survived much worse than some paegan Shin with a stolen blade.” The king raised his blade, almost like a salute before a duel.

Stain did not return it; murderers and tyrants did not deserve such a sign of respect. Breathing in, he drained this hall of its Stormlight, refilling his reserve. The king’s posture changed; clearly he was not expecting something he’d never seen before. Stain grinned. _Perhaps you’ve survived a lot, Enji Todoroki, but you’ve never faced someone like me._

Lashing himself to a distant point behind the king, Stain flew through the air, pointing his feet directly at Enji. The king reacted late, unable to bring his blade around to swipe at Stain in time. Stain’s feet slammed into the chestplate, creating a web of cracks in it, and sending a wave of pain through Stain’s legs. He grimaced as the Stormlight healed the damage, and he undid the Lashing dropping to the floor before the king.

Enji swung his blade, seeming to now be adjusting to an opponent who could fly through the air, and Stain, rather than parry the blow with his own blade, ducked, using the agility his lack of Plate granted him to dash between the king’s legs. Coming up behind him, he swung his blade into Enji’s back, cracking it there as well. The king grunted, and swung his blade in a wide arc all the way around his body. Stain wasn’t expecting such a speedy retaliation, and the king’s blade caught his shoulder. The skin there turned pale and grey, a signal that it was dead from a shardblade. Stormlight began to fix the injury, although it took far more of Stain’s supply than he would have liked. He Lashed himself and fell away from the king, putting some distance between them, nearly resulting in him tumbling into the king’s chambers.

“Impressive. I never thought I’d see Surgebinding again. I assume you’re wielding an honorblade? You’ve clearly mastered it.” He began to chuckle darkly as he stomped towards his opponent.

Stain felt his jaw go slack. How? How did the king, Enji Todoroki, know about Surgebinding, about the honorblades, about this ancient art that no one other than the Shin should have been privy to? _Is this why my masters sent me to kill him?_

Raising his honorblade, Stain realized he’d been taking this fight too lightly. Clearly there was a reason Enji Todoroki was such a tyrannical overlord. If he was to be killed, it would take all of Stain’s training. _Especially_ if the man knew about Surgebinding.

The king rushed forward, swinging his blade with expertise, the weapon smooth and fluid in his hands. Stain became a duelist then, blocking, dodging, parrying, using nothing but his honorblade to counter his opponent’s advances. All the while, he kept an eye out for an opening, someplace he could surprise the king, Lash himself somehow. Unfortunately, Stain couldn’t Lash the Plate; the ancient armour was impervious to the influence of Surgebinding.

Enji got cocky, pulling off fancier moves, as if to prove how good he was. Stain resisted a grin; cockiness was the downfall of all arrogant men. As the king began to push Stain into his bedchambers, Stain suddenly Lashed himself to the ceiling. It was much higher than the comparatively low ceiling of the hallway beyond, and Stain now found himself outside the reach of the king’s blade.

“Coward,” Enji growled. “Get down here and fight with honor.”

“You do not deserve to speak of honor,” Stain spat. Taking his blade in two hands, he slammed it into the stone of the ceiling he now stood upon, cutting the rock into a circle. It began to slide towards the ground, and Stain added one, two, three Lashings. It plummeted to the ground, now going three times the acceleration rate of gravity, The king, who only seemed to just be realizing what was going on, hurried to get out of the way, but was too late. The rock slammed down on top of him, and only the king’s Plate saved him. The stone toppled off him, revealing that Enji’s helmet and chestplate had shattered completely. 

The king scowled hatefully at Stain. Then, suddenly, he pulled his arm back and threw the shardblade straight at Stain. It didn’t disappear in the air, as would normally happen when a shardbearer lost their blade, meaning Enji was making a mental effort to keep it around. Stain hadn’t expected such a move, and couldn’t get out of the way in time, the blade sliding through his side and embedding itself into the ceiling below. Stain growled as he used a generous amount of Stormlight to heal the damage. _What a cheap tactic._

Unfortunately, staying up here would drain too much of his Stormlight, now. He reluctantly fell back down to the ground, raising his blade just as the king’s returned to him.

“You’re running low on Stormlight now, isn’t that right?” Enji grinned. “I can tell. It takes a lot to heal shardblade wounds. Unless you can find someplace else that has infused spheres, you’ll run out soon. Which means all I have to do is keep you trapped in here.”

Stain glanced around. It was true; not a single sphere could be seen in the bedchambers. “You know a lot about honorblades, I see,” he said, trying to stall. “Curious where that information came from.”

Enji narrowed his eyes. “You want to know? Truly?” He glanced behind himself, his expression almost conspiratorial. “You’ve noticed my appearance, correct? Don’t I resemble a certain someone from legend? A certain...Herald?”

Stain frowned. _No. It can’t be._ “...Endeavor?”

The king nodded. “The Heralds are immortal. We haven’t died, even now. If you doubt me, consider, what Alethi could possibly know this much about Surgebinding, about the honorblades?”

Stain slowly shook his head. _No. No. This means…_

 _But if a Herald is back, and has reformed a kingdom no less, what does this mean for the Desolations?_ Stain’s mind was racing in a panicked confusion. _They told me I was wrong. I was a heretic._

_I am Truthless because I was weak in mind, I cannot allow this to distract me from redemption._

Stain glanced back at Enji--no, Endeavor, in his vulnerable state. He could achieve his goal right now, but at what cost? This was a Herald he was looking at. A man who had saved humanity time and time again, regardless of what he’d become now.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill him. The Heralds were not to be slain, if they even could be in the first place. _But I must fulfill the demands of my masters_. But how? How could he do so now, knowing the truth about his target?

 _I was to stop his plans,_ Stain thought, mind racing, trying to recall the conversation his masters had had before they’d assigned him his mission. _He was trying to...bring back...their gods. Something about a black sphere_. But where was he supposed to find that? It could be anywhere in the palace.  
Maybe Enji would reveal where he hid it, with the right incentive. A hostage might prove enough to loosen his tongue. The queen...surely he’d have some attachment to her. 

Suddenly dashing away, limbs empowered by the Stormlight running through his veins, Stain left Endeavor, stopping before one wall of the room. If Rei had been here before the alarm, she would have followed the evacuation route. Stain had memorized this route beforehand. He pressed his hand to the floor, and it dissolved away before long. Stain dropped through, leaving Endeavor to hastily catch up.

Just as he’d suspected, Stain had landed in a hallway directly below the king’s chambers, a hallway which was part of the evacuation route. He broke once again into a sprint, dashing down the hall and finding a staircase. Launching himself down it, he soon saw figures ahead of him, and among them the king’s wife, Queen Rei Todoroki.

With a few quick swipes of his honorblade, he killed her attendants, leaving her untouched. The gems her attendants had been holding scattered on the steps, and Stain breathed in their Stormlight, refilling his reserve, drowning the stairwell in darkness. The queen cried out as Stain gripped her by the arm and pressed his blade up against her throat.

“Don’t move, unless you want to end up like them,” he hissed, motioning to her dead attendants.  
It was trickier to move, now that he had a hostage, but he managed to get her up the staircase, retracing the evacuation route. When he had returned to the hallway below the king’s bedchambers, he saw Endeavor had arrived, expression furious. He paled once he saw that a shardblade had been pressed to his wife’s neck.

“You have a black sphere, don’t you, Endeavor?” Stain said. “Where is it? And don’t make any sudden moves, or my hand might just slip.”

Surprisingly, the response Stain received was through the form of a dry laugh. Rei’s form shook in a mixture of chuckles and sobs under his hold.

“You’re a fool thinking you can use me to get anything from Enji, assassin. My husband is not someone who would let himself be weakened by family.” Rei all but spat the last sentence, resentment seething off of the queen. 

The king paled in shock at his wife’s words. If Stain had to guess, he’d assume this was the first in a long time that the immortal Herald Endeavor truly empathized with someone so insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

He then brought back his attention in a glare filled with fiery hatred at Stain. “I have it locked up in my office,” he reluctantly said through gritted teeth.

Rei gasped under his grasp, her eyes, still wide with fear, but with a tinge of newfound respect. Clearly her speech from earlier, in her mind, wasn’t all talk.

“Wonderful,” Stain smiled. He knew where that was; he’d memorized the layout of the entire palace. Slowly, eyes on the king, blade to the queen’s throat, he made his way down the hall, up a staircase, down another hall, into the office--all the while trailed by Endeavor, the furious man waiting, watching. Stain didn’t know why he didn’t call for reinforcements; sure, extra guards wouldn’t help in a hostage situation, but they were better than nothing. Yet the Herald remained alone.

Stain finally managed to retrieve the black sphere his masters had spoken of, in the king’s office. It didn’t glow, like normal spheres did, but instead almost seemed to suck in light. He wasn’t sure how this could possibly stop Endeavor’s plans, but he wasn’t about to question his masters now. 

He eyed a window on one side of the office. It was too small to fit out, but it did mean that this office was right on the edge of the palace. Stain inched towards it, and, once next to it, slowly released his grip on Rei’s arm, making sure to keep his honorblade against her throat. With his now free hand, he pressed it to the wall; the stone disintegrated around the window, making a much wider gap. 

“You have your sphere, coward,” Endeavour growled. “Now release my wife.”

Stain grinned nastily. Just because this man was a herald, doesn't mean he couldn’t be punished. “I don’t think so.”

He slit Rei’s throat in a fluid motion before she or Endeavor could react, and pushed her body away from him. Endeavour cried out in horror as Stain Lashed himself three times over to a point on the horizon, and flew out of the office, out of the palace.

As he flew through the air, emotions mingled within him. He was sorry he couldn’t kill Endeavor, couldn’t fulfill his masters’ orders exactly, but he had completed his mission all the same, and given the tyrant some payback as well.

Endeavour’s cries of fury and pain echoed throughout all of Alethkar that night. 


	3. Revolar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izuku managed to open his eyes, feeling a wet warmth bloom on his forehead, and met the terrified face of the man he was attempting to save. 
> 
> *I’ve done nothing but doom us both. I should have gotten some real help. It’s too late now.*

As the carriage reached the top of the hill, the city of Revolar came into view. Izuku stared in awe; he had never seen so many buildings in one place! Where his hometown was nothing more than a few houses gathered by a river, Revolar was a bustling metropolis, with people abound, and the sounds of the city filling his ears. The carriage passed through a particularly wide street, big enough for Izuku’s house to fit three times over across it, and Izuku couldn’t take in the sights, the sounds, the smells fast enough. What would it be like to live here, among so many people? 

He tried to stay focused, turning his attention to the carriage his brightlord sat in. It was being pulled by chulls at their usual slow pace; perfect for the busy, bustling street they were headed down. Their speed also meant that his brightlord could afford to leave Izuku off the carriage; the boy had traveled by foot the entire way between his tiny hometown of Naranar and Revolar. His feet ached more than they had in quite some time, but he could ignore the pain and discomfort, now enthralled by the city around him.

The carriage made its way through the streets, sticking to places where it would fit, all the while weaving its way towards the abode of a resident brightlord living in Revolar. Izuku’s brightlord had been suffering from bandit attacks on his trade routes, and was coming to negotiate a deal for better security. Izuku, just a servant, had been taken along in order to handle any small tasks that a lighteyes couldn’t be bothered with.

It didn’t irk Izuku that he was being treated that way, at least not now that he was getting to go farther from his hometown than he’d ever been. He could handle a bit of menial work if it meant _this_.

As they traveled, the chatter of the crowds of darkeyes met his ears; gossip, conversation, idle chitchat -- and mentions of thieving crews in the area. Apparently Izuku’s brightlord was not the only one to suffer banditry. Would that make negotiating a deal harder? He put that from his mind, trying to listen in on nearby conversations. Many people were theorizing that the citylord of Revolar would soon be a target himself, that the thieves would break into his mansion. _Apparently big cities are just as vulnerable as small towns,_ Izuku thought.

The conversations of the people on the streets also spoke of something else--a wandering vigilante, someone who seemed to be combating the thieving crews. This wasn’t the first time Izuku had heard of this mysterious vagabonde; even in Naranar the other boys Izuku’s age had whispered about him. Not everyone agreed on what they thought of him, but Izuku was certain--he had to be the coolest person in all of Alethkar. A crimefighting wanderer? The very idea of it sent shivers down his spine. _What I wouldn’t give to meet someone like him…_

“Izuku!” A commanding voice came from beside him.

Izuku glanced up; his brightlord, Akihiro, stuck his face out the window of the carriage. “How close are we? I’m sick of sitting around all day.”

“I don’t know, brightlord. I’ve never been to Revolar before.” He’d told Akihiro so several times already during the trip; the man could be very forgetful. 

“Ah, is that right?” Akihiro grumbled. “Well, let me know when we get to the lighteyes district, then.”

It didn’t take much longer. The streets full of darkeyes thinned out, becoming less crowded, and the common-looking houses were replaced with expensive ones, a clear indicator that lighteyes lived here. Izuku rapped on the window of the carriage, and informed Akihiro. The man seemed satisfied, and before long, they stopped before the biggest mansion Izuku had ever seen.

The carriage now pulled to a stop, Akihiro stepped out. “Alright. Time to pull out my skills in negotiation. Izuku, keep watch over the carriage. Don’t want any more bandits stealing what’s mine. I shouldn’t be more than a few hours at most.”

“Er. Yes, brightlord.” Izuku glanced down at his feet. Would they be able to take a few hours of standing around? Maybe he could sneak onto the carriage and rest at some point.

Leaning back against the carriage, Izuku watched as the chulls retracted into their shells, and their master, the man who had been guiding the carriage, laid back in his seat and closed his eyes, clearly about to take a nap. He glanced around; there really weren’t that many people here in the lighteyes district. It was a strange dichotomy; all the common darkeyes ended up out and about in their section of the city, but all the important lighteyes stayed home. 

As he stood around, waiting, he found that though it was extremely empty here, there _were_ a few lighteyes walking about. They carried themselves with such...regality. As though they all were part of the royal line, or something. _In a way, I guess they are, though._ The lighteyes were descended from the Knights Radiant, after all; they had inherited their glowing eyes, but none of their mystical powers.

_I wonder what it was like, being a Knight Radiant._ They were all long gone, now, an ancient order of the past, and besides, they’d betrayed humanity. The rest of the world seemed to regard them as blasphemous, as horrible traitors...but Izuku didn’t see them like that. They’d existed for centuries before their fall, hadn’t they? Who was to say they were all bad? How could you decide that just because the last generation had betrayed Roshar, that they were all terrible? Besides, they probably had good reasons for doing what they did--a whole group of people didn’t just commit treachery for no reason, after all. 

Yes, Izuku loved the Knights Radiant, though he’d never admit it to anyone. Only a select few of his closest family members and friends knew about his obsession with them, and he had no intentions of changing that. If normal people found out that he saw the Knights Radiant as admirable, he’d be beaten up--and if the ardents found out? Well, it would be much worse than that.

So he kept silent. _Not that it matters anyway._ The Knights Radiant were all gone, long dead. Admirable though Izuku found them, he would never see them in action firsthand, would never experience a Roshar where they protected humanity. He--

The sounds of someone crying out in pain came from a ways away.

Izuku blinked, and noticed a group of people in an alleyway. They had hunched postures, and seemed to be surrounding someone. _What…?_ Izuku glanced around, trying to see if any of the passersby would step in. 

While it was clear that some noticed the disturbing events unfolding, none gave it a second glance. _This person is clearly in trouble. How could they just walk past?_

Izuku turned and stared down the alleyway once more. The aggressors almost reminded him of the stories about voidbringers; surrounded by darkness with their sick laughs that sounded animalistic, clearly taking joy in the pure fear of the huddled figure at their mercy. 

_Someone has to do something._ Izuku gulped and ran into the darkness before his logic and self preservation could stop him. 

As he approached, he was able to make out the pleas of the suffering figure. "Please I won't tell anyone just let me go. My moms are old, I-I'm all they have to care for them. I was going to make them dinner today. I promise I'll stay quiet, just please please they need me."

“Hey! What… What’s going on here?”

The figures turned to him. Up close Izuku could really understand how intimidating they were with their muscles and the various sharp knives and tools they were brandishing. 

One of them, with bright red hair and tattoos covering much of his face gave him a humoured, but unimpressed look and with an accent Izuku had never heard before replied. “Hah! And who wants ‘cha know, young brightlord?” 

Storms. Izuku definitely should have made some sort of plan before running into this mess. Being too intimidated by the unwavering eye contact of this thug, he accidentally instead locked gazes with the poor victim who he came here for in the first place. 

The man was darkeyed, but well dressed. Probably at least third nahn. The source of his distressed cry likely came from the new injury he was sporting on his face. His now disfigured nose dripping blood onto his light collared shirt. _Oh, those stains will definitely be a pain to get out._ Izuku mused, remembering the scrapes he would get when he and Katsuki used to play as soldiers. 

The huddled man stared into Izuku with eyes like a wounded axehound, a mixture of fear and painspren leaking off of him. Izuku knew right then and there that whatever happened, he couldn’t leave this man to fend for himself. 

With a new resolve, Izuku matched the thug’s intense stare and replied. “Izuku Midoriya. I think you’ve made your point already; can you please let this gentleman be on his way?”

The red haired man froze with surprise for half a second before dissolving into a fit of wheezes, with the rest of the thugs joining him. 

“Young brightlord, you’d ‘ave a great bark! This fool righ’ ‘ere snooped where he don’t belong.” He gave the man a heavy kick. “We’re jus making ‘im forget us.”

Izuku paled. If these thugs were hiding something then that could put him at even more risk than he’d already gotten himself into. The situation had somehow gotten even more dangerous. “I-I think he looks roughed up enough, don’tcha? He’s definitely forgotten everything.”

The man’s face warped into an evil smirk. “If ya think yer’ so right ‘ow ‘bout ya prove it to us’es.” He turned to face his friends and gestured towards one. A girl about Izuku’s age was shoved. She had shoulder length brown hair that curled towards her face, and the pinkest cheeks Izuku had ever seen. “This be our runt, Ear-arr-aka.” The girl scoffed, likely at the butchering of her name. “I like yer spunk. If ya beat ‘er then we’ll consider whatcha said.”

Izuku gulped. While he used to play spearman with Katsuki with poles when they were little, he was never very good. After a while Katsuki started losing patience for him, getting harsher and focused more on beating him up rather than having a fair fight. He did have those windstance drawings that he memorized after he traded all his chore money from that year to a merchant who passed through town. It was one of his most prized possessions. The only other fighting reference he had was when he’d to study the moves of the farmers who were retired soldiers when he begged them to spar for him. 

Yeah… That was actually a lot for someone who had never been in a real fight before. Even though he could only read glyphs, studying was one of Izuku’s best skills. _Maybe I could actually pull this off. This girl is pretty small, and how many actually know how to fight anyway?_

She continued to glare at him as she absentmindedly pulled on her fingers and shrugged her shoulders. Then she raised her arms in a defensive position and Izuku copied her gesture. 

_Ok maybe I never really had the chance to learn much of hand to hand combat but what better way to learn than from experience? Just copy what she does and you’ll get the hang of it._ _Just try to be strong like your heroes, like All Might, Endeavor, and Fatgum._

The girl--what was her name? Yeruraka?--swung first, coming faster than Izuku could properly react to. He narrowly avoided her fist that was aimed for his face. But he lost his balance and stumbled for a second, losing the weak form he held previously. She wasted no time, sending a punch to Izuku’s stomach, this time hitting its mark. All breath was knocked out of him and he started wheezing and fell to his knees. 

The thugs laughed at this pathetic spectacle. His opponent stepped back, giving him a moment to catch his breath. _Oh great, now she’s going easy on me._

While he was given this short period of time to himself, Izuku tried to really get a good look at the girl. He could tell from the direction the punches came in and how she was standing now that she must favour her right side more. Katsuki used to do that too; he could definitely work with that. He did a couple practice punches in the air, as silly as it looked, trying to see if he could replicate the power she had before. Izuku then moved into windstance, trying to account for the lack of shardblade with his fists. _Shardbearers always keep balance and form. I just have to try to do the same._

The girl came at him, but this time Izuku was more prepared, pivoting to the left. He threw a punch to her now exposed side, which actually succeeded. It clearly lacked the skill and strength of her hits, but it actually managed to push her slightly off balance. 

_I can’t afford to hesitate now._ Izuku made the rash decision to tackle her to the ground, using his entire body weight. She fell down with a huff. 

Izuku managed to hold the position for a couple seconds, suddenly not knowing what to do and hoping this meant that he won and _wow_ he could really feel how toned her arms were, before being suddenly shoved to the side. 

The girl gave him a punch to the face before managing to get up and kick him in the ribs. The thugs cheered for their champion while he groaned in pain, suddenly not having the strength to get up again. 

Izuku managed to open his eyes, feeling a wet warmth bloom on his forehead, and met the terrified face of the man he was attempting to save. Earlier he mentioned his parents, that he was all they had. 

_I’ve done nothing but doom us both. I should have gotten some real help. It’s too late now._

Or. was it really too late? Izuku turned to the direction of the alleyway exit and with all the strength of his aching chest, cried at the top of his lungs. “HELP!”

The girl crouched down and punched him in the face. “Shut up!! Or I’ll kill you,” laughing nervously as she spoke for the first time. 

Izuku ignored her orders and only yelled louder, fighting against her hands as she tried to cover his mouth. 

Another thug came forward and picked Izuku up by the neck with his much larger and stronger hands, throwing him onto the wall and cutting off all air circulation. “Boss, I think I should shut this chicken up for good.” 

Izuku panicked and sent a silent prayer. _Mom, I’m sorry for getting in trouble during my first time away from home alone. Please All Might or a Radiant or anyone let me and this man make it out alive._

A great bellow rang down the alleyway, vibrating inside Izuku’s head, causing the man holding him to loosen his grip in shock. “WORRY NOT, FOR I AM HERE!”

He managed to turn his head in his weakened state to see standing there, his saviour. The most muscular man he’d ever seen with slicked back blond hair and two tuffs sticking out of the top of his head, reminding him of a chicken’s plumage. 

The man’s smile was the last thing remembered before everything faded to black, a grin filled with such confidence that Izuku felt like he was safe. 


	4. Darkeyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He was looking down on me,” Katsuki growled. “He thought he was above me.”
> 
> “He is above you,” Aizawa snapped.
> 
> There was a pause.
> 
> “He shouldn’t be.”

“TAKUYA, RAISE YOUR ARMS DAMNIT! YOUR POSTURE IS A DISGRACE. AND TOBIO, STOP HAVING YOUR MEN PRACTICE WITHOUT ARMOUR. THIS IS WHY YOUR SQUAD IS THE SLOWEST!”

Katsuki gritted his teeth. These men were soldiers, why were they stupid enough to relax during training? Fighting on the chaotic battleground that was the Shattered Plains meant honing your skills could easily determine whenever you lived or died on the battlefield.

The men under his command were a part of Highprince Aizawa’s warcamp, who was well known for having the fewest casualties of any active army in Alethkar. To Katsuki’s annoyance this also meant that he would retreat from far more battles than the other highprinces when he believed that the effort was not worth it, causing him and his men to be labeled as cowards despite all their successes. 

_ Cowards _ . He could barely believe it. Katsuki, bearer of a shardblade, a coward? He could probably take on most of the wimps in the other warcamps on and beat them into submission if he wanted. But it wasn’t just about him, unfortunately. Ultimately, it came down to Aizawa. The man was a strategist, but he cared too damn much. Not about the war, but about his men. It was as if the battles for the gemhearts didn’t matter to him.

Katsuki was high enough dahn that he would occasionally have conversations with Aizawa, but he wouldn’t be able to sway him to action. Only the political scene would cause the highprince to push for more successes than retreats, and Katsuki was no politician.

A soldier. That was what Katsuki was. A warrior, who had fought in more battles and seen more men dead than most of these pompous lighteyes. Some trained, but more than a few loafed around, ostensibly content to ignore their training in favour of sitting back and letting the darkeyed soldiers take care of battles.

It was despicable. Katsuki was glad to have his shardblade; it was proof of his skill--but more often than not, he despised being a lighteyes now. He saw firsthand what it was like from up here, in a position of command, how little like people the lighteyes often seemed to treat the darkeyes. It was a starkly refreshing perspective, and it did little to give Katsuki reason to like the lighteyes. Still, he could do nothing about them, and he had everything he could ever want, so there was no real reason to complain.

_ Everything I want except a competent group of soldiers. _ Katsuki watched their sloppy attempts at swordplay.  _ They’d barely survive in a duel, let alone the battlefield. _ He walked around, continuing to yell at them, correct them, adjust their stances and their techniques. He was in charge of the training grounds for today, overseeing them, but already he could feel his irritation getting the better of him.

“Takuya! What did I say?” Katsuki snapped.

The tall man rolled his eyes. “Come on, Katsuki. Do you really have to be so strict?”

Katsuki glared at him, and stomped over to the man. “Do you wanna  _ die _ , Takuya?”

He paled. “Um, no?”

“Then  _ raise your arms _ . You can’t swing a damn shardblade like that; the things are so long that you’ll just scrape the ground. Your defense will be down, you’ll be busy trying to pull the Blade out of the rock, and then the Parshendi will be all over you and you’ll be dead. You don’t want that, right?”

Takuya only nodded.

Nodding in satisfaction, Katsuki moved on.  _ Storms _ , these men were a disgrace. The ardents, men who hadn’t even seen a battle, were better than them. Sighing, Katsuki leaned back against a wall and continued to survey the area.

A sudden flash of red. Katsuki’s eyes narrowed on the newcomer. His hair was split in two colours; one was the Veden red of his father, the king, and the other was an odd white, marking his foreign blood--though which race the white came from, Katsuki couldn’t tell. Though he wore a military uniform, he had never once seen a day of battle. On his hand was a Soulcaster.

Shouto Todoroki entered the training grounds, and Katsuki felt his irritation bubble into full-on anger. The king’s son, a pampered brat with no experience in war and a love of talking down to people. Just what in Damnation was he doing here?

Katsuki watched as the prince calmly observed the training. The men seemed to straighten up as he passed, their efforts sharpening, obviously an effort to show off to him. Katsuki rolled his eyes. Shouto said nothing, simply walking across the grounds. There was a certain look in his eyes, an air of superiority. It was common in these high dahn lighteyes, but it bugged Katsuki more than all the rest when he could see it in Shouto. Like he was smugly gloating in his head.

_ I can’t keep focusing on him, _ Katsuki thought to himself. Turning on his heel, he stepped up to a group of ardents.

“You,” he pointed to the toughest-looking one. “I want to spar.”

The ardent blinked in surprise from suddenly being on the receiving end of Katsuki’s attention. “Er- Brightlord, I mean no disrespect but I’m not sure if that’s a-”

“I didn’t ask for your damn opinion. Get your ass over here already,” Katsuki growled in response. 

The ardent reluctantly began to approach, turning his head to give his friends a silent plea. They looked away, pretending not to see in fear of capturing the attention of Katsuki’s mood.

Katsuki unbuttoned the coat of his uniform while the ardent shrugged off his robes. “We’ll be doing hand to hand, best two out of three. Whoever can hold the other down for ten heartbeats wins the round. You can count us down from three.” The ardent nodded in understanding and began.

As Ardent reached one, Katsuki shot forward, not giving his opponent any time to react. He raised his fist, aimed at the ardent’s face before it was encased in a block of ice. Katsuki tripped over his feet from the sudden, unexpected weight, and fell to the side of his opponent. 

“WHAT IN DAMNATION?” Katsuki shouted. He whipped his head back, looking for the cause of his predicament when he caught the mismatched eyes of the prince himself. His soulcaster was fully exposed and some of the gems were now visibly dun. 

“ _ You, _ ” Katsuki sneered. 

“Me,” replied Shouto. 

_Of course that bastard had to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong._ “WHAT THE STORMS IS THIS?” Katsuki aggressively gestured to the giant block of ice encasing his hand. 

The prince huffed. “If I hadn’t intervened you would have disrespected the king’s word. Ardents have been banned from participating in combat since the last Weeping.” 

Katsuki shouted back, his anger and bewilderment keeping him from controlling his volume. “SINCE WHEN WAS THAT A RULE? YOUR INCOMPETENT ARDENTS NEVER TOLD US OF THIS. YOU SHOULD JUST MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS SINCE YOU DON’T EVEN BELONG IN OUR CAMP.”

“As the heir to my father’s kingdom I cannot just allow his own troops to casually disobey his will. Besides, while you may have earned your rank, many Highprinces would gladly take any excuse to demote you. You should be more careful.” Shouto retorted, staring at Katsuki with a look of displeasure and boredom. 

_ This spoiled piece of crem is looking down on me.  _ Katsuki shot up from his position on the ground, grunting from the pull of the heavy block on his arm. “I’m not about to listen to some spineless rich boy. You aren’t even a part of the army, useless prince.” 

An unidentifiable emotion flashed across Shouto’s face before disappearing as fast as it came. “You of all people would not understand,” he shot back. 

Katsuki was seething at this point. “Oh what because I’m a  _ darkeyes _ ? I’m sorry that I wasn’t handed a fancy title on a silver platter just for being BORN like your weak dumbass was. I actually did something for myself unlike those lazy assholes who just dreamed of getting where I am. You’ve done nothing to earn what you have.” 

At this point, Shouto’s glare was almost as intense as the one Katsuki was giving him. He spoke, venom dripping from every word. “That sounds like a direct,  _ public _ , challenge to my right to the throne; and by extension your King’s will. Am I correct in that assumption, Brightlord?” 

A part of Katsuki would have eagerly shot back an insult, would have taken the arrogant prince up on a duel--but another part of him knew that he’d only get chewed out for it later. Aizawa wouldn’t like one of his highest officers challenging the king’s son. Instinct warred with logic inside Katsuki, and for a moment he thought the instinct would win out.

A cough came from behind Shouto Katuski angled his head to the sound only to meet the eyes of his brightlord, highprince Aizawa. 

Aizawa, notorious among anyone who has ever had to work with him for the intensity of his cold stares, shot daggers at Katsuki with his red eyes. Shouto frowned, and glanced over his shoulder.

“Ah. Highprince Aizawa.”

“Prince Shouto,” Aizawa gave him a curt bow. “Captain Bakugou. Are you two having any troubles?” There was an implication in his words. Yes, he knew full well they’d been on the verge of an all out fight.

Katsuki glared at Shouto, before gritting from his teeth. “No, sir. Prince Shouto and I were just having a  _ respectful disagreement _ .”

Shouto eyed him. “Captain Bakugou was inviting an ardent to spar with him, something that is clearly against the law my father set out. I stepped in before he’d officially broken it.”

Aizawa frowned. “Law? What law?”

“The law against allowing ardents to do battle, or spar. My father doesn’t want any of the Almighty’s holy representatives injured. Were you not made aware of this new law?”

Aizawa fixed him with a look. “Apparently not. Me and mine will do our best to follow it, from now on. Thank you, Prince Shouto.”

Shouto nodded to him. “Then I shall take my leave. Goodbye, Highprince, Aizawa, Captain Bakugou.” He stalked off, carrying with him his arrogant air and self-important expression.

Katsuki and Aizawa watched him go, before the highprince turned to the captain. “Katsuki, what was that?”

“I was defending myself!” Katsuki retorted. “Damn Half and Half acted as though I was in the wrong! You didn’t even know about this law!”

“Defending yourself?” Aizawa shot back. “You were defending your pride. Yes, you didn’t know about the law, and were not at fault, but that boy is still your prince. You  _ will _ defer to him, whether you like it or not.”

“He was looking down on me,” Katsuki growled. “He thought he was above me.”

“He  _ is _ above you,” Aizawa snapped.

There was a pause.

“He shouldn’t be.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to ignore the implications in that sentence. He is your  _ prince, _ Katsuki. Even if he insults you, even if he berates you, even if he puts you down, you cannot provoke him like that. You are duty-bound to obey him, to respect him. Just as you are to me.”

“I never asked to be under his rule. You’re a far better ruler than he is. He’s not even a shardbearer for storms sake!”

Aizawa sighed. “It doesn’t matter whether I’m better. You can’t just ignore the way things are, Katsuki. You--” He paused, and glanced around. The entire training ground seemed to be staring at them. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Katsuki reluctantly followed his highprince as they headed up the steps to the raised wraparound platform that overlooked the training grounds themselves. There were only guards and ardents up here.

“I understand how you feel, Katsuki,” Aizawa began softly. “Trust me, I do. You don’t think I and all the other highprinces hate Enji? He is an effective ruler but he is mean. Ruthless. In general, not a pleasant man to work with. All of us would rather he be gone. But we don’t do anything about it--or at least I don’t. Because we have sworn our allegiance to him. Because it would be a breach of honor to betray him like that. And, because if any of us were ever to be found out to be the ones who ordered his assassination, we would be killed just as swiftly. The murder of a king is not taken lightly--why do you think we’re at war?”

Katsuki wanted to open his mouth to retort, but he knew that Aizawa wasn’t finished. The man tended to ramble, when he was lecturing.

“Your feelings towards Prince Shouto are similar to my own about King Enji. But just as I am bound by duty, honor, and a desire not to suffer the consequences of doing something about the suffering he puts us through, you too are bound. Shouto might make you feel less, might make you feel like a child, but you do not have to stoop to his level. Show him you are better than he is. Do not fall to his taunts. Remember your duty, as well.” He paused. “Your position is a delicate one, Katsuki. Some lighteyes despise you for having only won your class through combat, as opposed to birth. If enough force was rallied against you, especially if the prince himself condemned you, there would be little I could do to help you.”

It was like a spear of ice had gone through his heart. “I knew it. It’s all just a matter of eye colour. Even now that mine are bright, you all still hate me.” He muttered.

Aizawa looked over his shoulder at the captain. He sighed. “Not in every case. You are a skilled soldier, and a valued leader. But the reality of the situation, just like Prince Shouto’s position above you, is that you will be hated for becoming a lighteyes. There is nothing I or anyone else can do to change that. All you can do is stand strong, and show them you deserve to be here.” He met Katsuki’s eyes. “Can you do that?”

Katsuki envisioned himself letting Shouto insult him further, look down on him with that expression, imagined faceless lighteyes mocking him from the shadows. Every bone in his body told him never to let anyone make a fool of him--but Aizawa was right, though he hated to admit it.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered.

Aizawa nodded. “Good. I will be going away soon, to Kholinar. I have business there. In the meantime, I will be leaving Inasa in charge, and you will have to pick up much of the slack. A lot of the duties of leading the armies will fall to you. Can I trust you not to make the same error of today, to make me proud?”

Katsuki didn’t trust himself to speak. He simply nodded.

“Alright. There are still men down there who barely know how to hold a sword. Go show them how it’s done. I will see you another time.” He squeezed Katsuki’s shoulder before walking off, leaving Bakugou alone on the walkway.

Off in the horizon, a highstorm was starting to form.


	5. Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lighteyes didn’t take him seriously, at least when it came to the war. He could talk tactics all he wished, but in the end, without the military experience of his father, Shouto had no real sway over this campaign.
> 
> How cruel. To have all the power of a prince, yet none where it matters.

Head up. Back straight. Stare forward. Hands at your sides. Walk with confidence--a steady, purposeful gait. Shouto was prince of Alethkar, and though many of the lighteyes he passed were older than him, they still owed him their respect. Respect...it was something not intrinsic to a position, no matter how much Enji seemed to think it was. Respect was something you earned. Respect was something that people gave to you, if they thought you were worthy of it.

Shouto gave them the prince they wanted to see. Confident, above it all, calm, cool, rational. Mature. Yes, he was deserving of being prince. A prince did not show his emotions. No matter how furious he was.

A fire burned inside Shouto. It had been there a long time, now. Ever since this war had started. Shouto was angry--angry at his father, angry at the other highprinces, and now, angry at himself. That captain, the one who used to be a darkeyes--he’d made Shouto realize something. The lighteyes...they didn’t take this war seriously. They lounged around, and it took someone yelling at them to get them off their asses. It was nothing but a game to them. How long had Shouto allowed them to play it? _I’m such a fool._ He should have seen it long before now. He should have _done_ something long before now.

Emotions stewed inside him, bubbling like a soup, but never surfacing. As Shouto entered the palace, he remained calm, cool, collected--at least, on the outside. Despite his age, lighteyes bowed to him as he passed, and darkeyed soldiers straightened their postures. To an outsider, it would appear he had all the power in the world.

And he would--if not for _him_.

Enji Todoroki stood in front of his map of the Shattered Plains, staring at it intensely. He did that a lot, these days. What was he trying to find, among those plateaus? What secrets was he hoping would reveal themselves? Shouto desperately wanted to know what was going on inside his father’s head...but he knew that asking would only enrage the king.

Most things seemed to enrage the king. It had become something Shouto had gotten used to, by now. He had matters he wanted to discuss with his father, things important to all of Alethkar, but he knew that interrupting the man now wouldn’t get him any leeway in a conversation. So, reluctantly, he moved on.

His duties at the training grounds were finished. Menial tasks like checking in on locations like that one were the sorts of things that Enji assigned his children to do. It felt demeaning, to have such little sway over the more important matters. But Shouto was bound by duty. He would do what he was required to do, so long as he saw his assignments as reasonable. Even if they _did_ make him furious.

His knuckles whitened, fingers clenching the chain of the Soulcaster on his hand. He held it up as he walked, admiring the gems embedded in it. Smokestone, ruby, and garnet. His specialties. He had mastered the ability to create water using the garnet, long ago--and a few years ago he’d discovered how to turn that water into a solid. To his knowledge, he was the first Soulcaster to discover how. Those who knew anything about Soulcasters praised him for the achievement. Everyone else looked down on him.

The king’s son, a Soulcaster? What a joke. Princes were not supposed to dally in the affairs of ardents. In Alethkar, you were a warrior, or you were no one. Every highprince had their own shards, and the king had won several over the course of his reign. And yet, he had never once bestowed a single shard to his children. Shouto, despite all he did for his kingdom, had no Blade of his own, nor Plate. Oh, he practiced using Enji’s loanable shards, but he had never gone into battle, never fought using the legendary shardblades that Alethkar so prized. The lighteyes didn’t take him seriously, at least when it came to the war. He could talk tactics all he wished, but in the end, without the military experience of his father, Shouto had no real sway over this campaign.

How cruel. To have all the power of a prince, yet none where it matters.

Sighing, Shouto entered a common room, where a fire blazed in a hearth. He sat down before it, staring at the flickering flames. It felt so good to rest. What he wouldn’t do to just remain here, forever…

“Shouto?”

He blinked, and sat up in the direction of the voice.

Momo Yaoyorozu, Enji’s ward who, in recent years, has become like a sister to Shouto, stood behind him. The infused diamonds braided into her dark hair gave her a heavenly glow against the dim room, matching her bright silver eyes and flowing red, gold trimmed havah.

“Yes?” Shouto said, standing up.

“You look awfully tired. Are you alright?”

He shook his head. _I...guess I_ am _that tired._ “I’m fine, it’s been a long afternoon. How are you?”

She gave a small smile. “I am alright. I spent the day looking into Alethkar’s foreign affairs. Did you know that most of our trade comes from Thaylen?”

“Well, they _are_ merchants,” Shouto replied. 

“Er...I guess you’re right,” she said. As she spoke, her eyes kept darting behind her, out the door.

“Are you sure you’re alright? It looks like something’s on your mind.”

Momo blinked. “I...it’s nothing, really. Just...I saw your father, in his study again. Staring at that map. I’m concerned about him.”

Shouto shook his head. “He does that all the time. Believe me, you don’t need to be worried about my father.” _He’s not deserving of your concern._

“But...well, _why_ does he do it? What is he looking for?”

Shouto shrugged. “Who knows what goes on in his head? Tactics and battle plans, I suppose.”

Momo again glanced out the door, a hand coming up and idly playing with a strand of hair. “I guess. I’m also worried about you, Shouto. You always try to put up that noble front, but I can tell. You’re angry about something,” Storms. She could see through him that easily? She narrowed her eyes and her frown turned into a mischievous smile. “Could it be about that darkeyes shardbearer you butted heads with earlier?”

Shouto froze. “How did you hear about that already?” He sputtered. “It hasn’t even been two hours.” 

“Oh Shouto,” She began, her mischievous grin growing, “What did I say about doubting me? You know I pay close attention to these things. Don’t bother asking where I got that information from though. A lady must closely guard her secrets.” 

The blood rushed to Shouto’s face, thinking of how much Momo must know of his past incidents with the soldier. It was just so hard to keep calm when interacting with an individual with such a hot temper. Bakugou could take Shouto breathing as a personal insult and he wouldn't be surprised. “Please tell me the other brightlords aren’t gossiping about it,” was all he managed to reply. 

Momo chuckled, clearly taking glee in his embarrassment. “No, don’t worry. They’re too focused on another one of Highprince Yamada’s incidents. I hear this time he was dancing in the court in his nightwear again.” Her expression then turned much more serious. “But I know that’s not the problem; I’m just teasing. What’s actually bothering you, Shouto?”

“I…” he began, before trailing off. “This war. It’s been going on for six years now. Why is that?”

She shrugged. “We’re limited by the terrain. The plateaus mean that we have to send out small forces to meet the Parshendi. Small skirmishes. None of the battles take out large swaths of soldiers on either side. There are no deciding fights. It means it takes a lot longer.”

Even though she was a woman, she still knew plenty about war. Shouto found himself impressed. “But it doesn’t have to be that way. Alethkar boasts the largest armies on Roshar. The terrain makes it tricky for any one highprince to fight the Parshendi, but if all ten highprinces banded together, if all of us were to march across the Plains at once, aiming for the Parshendi’s place of residence, we could end them for good.”

“We have no clue where that is though. We’ve spent years mapping the Shattered Plains and only truly know a fraction of it. We know even less about our enemies” Momo said.

“True, but with all those armies, all those scouts, we’d cover enough ground to find them no matter where they hid. It’s a sound tactic. So why haven’t we done it?” The fire in his stomach flared in fury. “Competition. The highprinces don’t work together. We compete, to see who can get the most gemhearts, to see who can win the most battles. It’s a game. And until we can set aside our petty desires to be the best, we’ll never crush the Parshendi.”

Momo stared at the floor, expression pensive, melancholic. This didn’t seem to shock her -- she’d known about this, known for a long time. Clearly it upset her as much as it did Shouto. 

“But like you said,” Momo blurted. “They don’t work together. And they never will.”

Shouto shook his head grimly. “No.”

“Unless someone shows them how.”

He looked up, frowning. “Maybe. But who would bother? Aizawa is the only one I can think of who cares enough to try, but even then he isn’t respected by other Highprinces. They would never follow his lead.”

Momo’s lips curled up in amusement. “You’re right, but you should give yourself more credit. You clearly care as much as he does.” 

_What is she implying…_ “You meant I should lead them?”

She nodded, meeting his eyes with a determined expression. “Yes. You’re their _prince_ , Shouto. There’s only one person in the entire kingdom who’s above you. If you order them to work together, then they have no choice.”

Shouto gave a bitter laugh. “I wish it were that easy. But the one person who’s above me is the reason I’ll never be able to do that. My father keeps a very tight leash around me and my siblings. We aren’t allowed shards, and we aren’t allowed to fight in war. I can be present at his strategy meetings, but anytime I speak my opinion, it is immediately discarded. Those generals don’t consider the views of a boy with no military experience to be worth their time. I may be their prince, but they listen to my father first and foremost.”

“So...convince him.”

Shouto blinked. “What?”

Momo leaned in, growing eager. “Convince your father to unite the highprinces. Tell him what you’ve told me, that with an organized effort, we’ll be able to beat the Parshendi for good.”

“I can tell him all I like,” Shouto said, “but it won’t do any good. Enji doesn’t bother giving my suggestions any thought. He does what he wants.”

“Well, maybe he’ll _want_ to do what you say, if he sees that it’s reasonable.”

“I…” Shouto trailed off. The chances that the king would actually listen to him were slim to none, but...maybe Momo was right. Maybe he’d actually listen to reason, this once. See that this was a solid plan. “Fine. I will speak with him.”

A smile spread across Momo’s lips. “That’s the spirit!”

Shouto stared at his friend. Momo was a welcomed part of Shouto’s life and one of the few good things that had ever happened to him. She demonstrated many of the ideals of an Alethi woman, with her intelligence and ability to light up the room with merely her presence. She drew people to her naturally. Even many of the lighteyes who looked down on her paid attention to whatever she had to say. “You’d be an excellent leader, probably better than me. You’re a natural at inspiring others and clearly know enough about the war.”

Momo’s expression quickly went from upbeat to a grimace. “I might be the King’s ward, but I have no power here. Even after all these years my parents are still widely spoken of in shame. I’m afraid I’ll never escape their legacy,” she muttered, bitterness seeping through her words. “Not to mention the fact that as I’m a woman, my role is in academia, not on the front lines.”

 _Defeat really doesn’t suit her. She’s made for better things than this,_ Shouto thought to himself. “I said I’d talk to my father because I trust your judgement. Just promise you’ll think about it?”

Momo gave him a small smile and rolled her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you know I can’t say no to you,” she replied, her voice taking on a teasing tone. 

Shouto turned and looked Momo dead in the eye with a serious expression. “You’re absolutely right. That was my evil plan all along. Taking advantage of your faith in me to get you to appreciate yourself and realize that you would make a fantastic leader.” 

Momo snorted in response. “Okay, Mr. Evil Voidbringer.” She glanced towards the fabrial clock that was propped up against the wall. “Oh dear, looks like our visiting Makabaki merchants will be arriving in our warcamp soon. I should go before one of our own brightlords makes a fool of themselves in front of them. It was nice speaking to you Shouto, make sure you see Enji!” She was already walking towards the exit before she finished her goodbye. 

Shouto stood alone in the room, thinking about his next actions. _Momo believes I can do this. I trust her judgement._ She always had good intuition for taking risks such as these, especially in social situations. Momo was far more of a ‘people person’ than he was. Still, Shouto had his concerns. Enji never regarded his family as people worth his time. The memory Shouto has of his father showing any sign of care for another person was the grief that painted his face after Rei’s murder, but even then that was short lived. From what Fuyumi and Natsuo described, not even Touya got that privilege after his death. 

Taking a deep breath, Shouto straightened his uniform. As far as he knew, he was one of the only people in Enji’s princedom to wear one. “I suppose I may as well get it over with now,” he said to himself and strode out of the room, towards Enji Todoroki’s study room. 


	6. Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The now visible figure was a skeleton of a man with a mess of bright yellow hair bursting from his head, wrapped in bright blue robes with a red trim. He approached the mess of blankets that Izuku was resting in. Izuku was about to burst towards the door when he noticed a small wooden token necklace hanging from the man’s loose grasp. It was undeniably the glyph of the Windrunners, carved into a deep green wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch izuku be an idiot on main once more

Izuku felt as if he was floating in a sea of darkness. He tried to think about something; what was happening, or what chores he had to do today, defending himself against Katuski, anything really. But his brain was too muddy and every thought escaped him before he could properly grasp it. Eventually he noticed the throbbing pain at the back of his head and squinted his eyes open to be faced with a perfectly smooth stone ceiling.  _ I don’t remember our roof being soulcasted _ , Izuku thought to himself, nuzzling his face back into the thin pillows beneath him before jolting back up in realization. 

The pain in izuku’s head bloomed with his sudden movement, along with the rest of his injured body. His eyes watered as he clutched his broken body and he could see the blurry orange figures of painspren streaming off of him. 

When the pain began to dull, Izuku looked up. Taking in his surroundings, the confined, smooth walls with a small hearth lighting the room. All of it an unfamiliar sight. 

_ Where am I? _ Izuku tried to think to his most recent memories, still groggy from the pain and just waking up. Images flashed in his mind, a scared man, a girl punching him, the confident smile of a stranger. None of them explained his current circumstances. 

Muffled voices could be heard from outside, coming from much closer than any of the noises he was hearing before.  _ I could be in danger. _ Izuku shot up from his pile of pillows and blankets on the ground. Black spots danced before his eyes from his sudden movement as he tried to look through the pain for a place to hide. The only structure in the room was the hearth that would just barely be able to conceal him from anyone standing at the entrance of the room if he curled up small enough.

Izuku scrambled over as he heard the sound of footsteps coming in his direction and pressed his entire body into his protective corner. 

The door creaked open and Izuku caught the shadow of a person with a small frame cast across the floor. Izuku held his breath as the figure slowly entered the room, getting ready to run the moment he had his opportunity. 

The now visible figure was a skeleton of a man with a mess of bright yellow hair bursting from his head, wrapped in bright blue robes with a red trim. He approached the mess of blankets that Izuku was resting in. Izuku was about to burst towards the door when he noticed a small wooden token necklace hanging from the man’s loose grasp. It was undeniably the glyph of the Windrunners, carved into a deep green wood.  _ The Knights Radiant? It’s expected of everyone to hate them. Why is he carrying one of their symbols?  _ Izuku froze in shock and was unable to hold in his small gasp of surprise. 

The man turned around and his gaunt, blue eyes bore into Izuku. He froze, quickly forgetting about the glyph as the danger of his situation dawned on him once more.  _ This is just an old, frail man. There’s no way he could have carried me on his own, which means he had help. Maybe he’s in league with that gang I ran into earlier.  _

_ I have to go before he calls for help.  _ Izuku snapped out of his shock and adrenaline pushed his aching body towards the door. 

Just as he reached the door, a blur of golden and blue flashed across his eyes and the figure of the old man stood before him.  _ What. How did he outrun me? _

Izuku’s captor let out a surprisingly friendly laugh. “HA! You’re certainly awake now. You shouldn’t be running around with those injuries, young man. Do you need me to get you anything? Food, water?” The voice that boomed out of Izuku’s captor was surprisingly strong and confident for one so frail. The man crossed his arms in the way his mother would often when lecturing him and had a frown of worry on his face.  _ This is all a front, the only thing he’s likely concerned about is me escaping. _

_ … _

_ Though if he was working with the gang, why would he be taking care of me right now? And why does he have a Windrunner glyph? Was he inspired by the same traveller as me?  _ Izuku’s fear of the man grew smaller as he puzzled more over his circumstances. 

Realizing he should probably answer his potential captor’s question, Izuku managed to stutter out a response. “I-I’m doing perfectly fine. No food or water for me thanks!” 

It was this moment that Izuku’s stomach made the ultimate betrayal and let out an unmistakable growl.  _ Storms, how long has it been since I last ate? Brighlord Akihiro must have noticed my absence by now. Hopefully the other servants are looking for me.  _

The man hunched over to the side of the door and picked up a wooden plate with a piece of rather weak looking flatbread with a dark orange chutney smeared on top, and a glass of water.  _ Maybe he just didn’t think I was worth the cost, but if this is the best meal he could afford, this really says a lot about his financial situation.  _

Frail arms handed the tray in Izuku’s direction and, being too tired and confused by his circumstances to properly think things through, he gracefully accepted the food and plopped himself down on his thin mattress.

He took a hesitant bite, trying to see if anything tasted off about the food. The bread was lightly dry and stale but the chutney was flavoured with herbs and spices that were unfamiliar, but had a pleasant taste.  _ Eh, if he’s planning on killing me, he’ll probably accomplish it regardless if the food is poisoned, _ Izuku concluded before chomping down on his meal as the man carefully sat himself on the ground against the wall across from him. 

“That was foolhardy of you, son,” the man said, though he grinned affably. “But brave. I assume you jumped in to rescue that poor soul?”

Izuku hesitantly nodded, swallowing the food. “Those men, they were beating him senseless. I couldn’t stand by and let it happen.”

The man let out a raucous laugh. “Ha! I admire someone who stands up for others. Still, you didn’t last long, did you? Not a fighter, eh?”

Izuku shook his head. “I’m just a servant.”

The man nodded slowly, studying Izuku. “Is that why you were in the lighteyed district?”

Izuku nodded. “I…” He paused. “Wait, what about that man? Is he alright? And his assailants--”

“Calm down, son,” the man put his hands out. “The man you tried to rescued is just fine; I got him out of there. And his attackers ran off when they saw me.”

Izuku frowned. “Wait,  _ you _ rescued him? But...you’re so spindly, and thin. How…” he trailed off.  _ Hadn’t someone appeared, just before I’d blacked out? _ A large man, muscular, with blond hair...sort of like this man. “You...you saved me. But you were so big! Did I imagine that?”

The man paled. “Er...well, yes. That was me. I...don’t enjoy revealing my true form to people if I can help it, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” He stood up, and, in an instant, his muscles grew thicker, his frame broader, his stature taller. His once gaunt face gained a strong jaw and high cheekbones, and soon enough he’d become a man buff enough to match the size of someone wearing shardplate. Izuku gawked.

“This is what I usually look like,” he explained. “My name is Toshinori, the Symbol of Peace. It’s good to meet you, son.”

Izuku’s jaw hit the floor.  _ Symbol of Peace?  _ He’d heard that name before. The wandering hero people spoke of called him that. _ He’s here? I’m  _ meeting _ him? _ It all made sense. The Symbol of Peace  _ had _ been reported to be in the area, and who else could have swooped in to save Izuku in his moment of need?

“I-I-I…” Izuku stammered, unable to respond. “I’m Izuku! Midoriya! Um...thank you for saving me!”

Toshinori chuckled. “No need to thank me. It’s my duty to save those in need. However, now that you know my true form...I would ask you keep it a secret. I’d rather it not become well known.”

Izuku hurriedly nodded.  _ Why does he have two forms? How does he transform like that? _ Questions burned in Izuku’s mind, but he knew better than to bother Toshinori with them. If it was his secret, then best not to pry.

“Now, you mentioned you were a servant. I’m not especially familiar with the brightlords in the area, but I may be able to help you find your way back if you give me a name.”

“B-Brightlord Akihiro, sir,” Izuku stammered. “I was in his retinue.”

Toshinori stroked his chin in thought. “Hrm. Can’t say I’m familiar.”

“He was visiting. I was accompanying him. It was just meant to be business dealings. We’re supposed to be finished by the end of the day.”

“Ah,” Toshinori nodded. “In that case, he may have left already. You were out for a long time, you see. It’s morning right now.”

Izuku paled. “M-Morning?” Akihiro had a fondness for Izuku, but he wouldn’t waste his time searching for him all night. They’d have left by now, undoubtedly. Izuku was alone in Revolar.

“I take it you agree,” Toshinori said. “Not to worry. I have no true destination; I am a wanderer, after all. I can accompany you back to your town.”

_ The Symbol of Peace? Accompany  _ me _? _ Izuku could barely believe it. “Th-Thank you,” he managed. Slowly, he took another bite of his food, and went silent, struggling to process everything that had happened.  _ The Symbol of Peace...right in front of me. _ It was like all his childhood dreams come true. Ideally, a Knight Radiant of old or a Herald would have rescued him in his hour of need, but Izuku was no fool; he knew that they were gone and the Heralds had long since disappeared from the surface of Roshar. Still, this was almost as good as the real deal. A wandering hero, one who stood up for others, who protected the weak-- _ that _ was what the Knights Radiant used to be. Even though he might not wield their mythical powers, he still embodied who they were.

“Where is your hometown, Izuku?” Toshinori prompted.

Izuku blinked. “Oh! Um, I live in Naranar.”

“Not too far,” Toshinori murmured. “Alright. If we set off now, we should arrive before nightfall. You’re not too hurt to walk, are you?”

Izuku tentatively stood up, and found though he was bruised he was more than capable of walking around. “I’m fine. You’re...really going to bring me all the way home?” He almost insisted he didn’t need the help--who was Izuku to bother such a brilliant man?--but he couldn’t deny how cool it would be to hang out with the Symbol of Peace.

Toshinori nodded with a grin. “It’s no trouble at all. Like I said, I’m a wanderer. I have no destination. My only goal is to help others in need. And, as it so happens, you are in need!”

Izuku nodded dully, still in awe of the whole situation. He imagined the journey ahead of him, alongside the Symbol of Peace. This was a man who knew how to handle himself in combat, who knew how to properly protect others. Could he give Izuku some tips? Perhaps show him the stances you used to fight with a shardblade, or maybe some martial arts?  _ But we only have a day. He can’t teach me everything. _ It pained Izuku that he’d be parting with such a legendary hero so soon after meeting him.

_ But...do I have to? _ The thought seemed to come out of nowhere. It was true that Izuku had always dreamed of leaving the small town of Naranar, to help people in places where they were in need. Could this be his chance? If he wanted to become better, would he find a better teacher than here?

“S-Sir!” Izuku blurted.

Toshinori raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“T-Take me with you! I want to travel with you, to learn from you! I want to be a hero who saves others, like you!”

Toshinori seemed taken aback by the request. He stared at Izuku in shock for a moment. “Come with me? Son, don’t you have a family waiting for you back home?”

Izuku paused. Yes, his mother was still at home. Was he being too hasty? But he was always going to leave his mother eventually, sad though it made him think about leaving her all alone. “Yes. But I needed to leave at some point! Please, sir. Let me come with you.”

For a long moment, Toshinori studied Izuku, and for a brief minute, Izuku let himself hope that his request would be accepted.

Then Toshinori shook his head. “I’m sorry, Izuku. I do some very dangerous things, and it’s not uncommon for people to try and kill me. I couldn’t in good conscience let a kid accompany me and get killed in the crossfire.”

“B-But!” Izuku stammered, struggling to come up with an argument to convince the man to change his mind.  _ How can I ask this legend to take time out of his day to teach me, though? _ It was selfish, to push on with this request. Reluctantly, Izuku bowed his head and nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry, sir.”

Toshinori looked down at Izuku, seeming a little sad. “Don’t apologize, son. Come. Let’s get you home.”


	7. Opportunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enji’s grizzled face betrayed no emotion, but his eyes...there was a fire in those eyes. Shouto was surprised to see it. He could feel its familiarity; that was a fire much like the one that burned within him. But not a fire against all the injustices he was being put through, no--Enji’s fire was for the Parshendi. Wasn’t it? What else could it be for?

Enji Todoroki. A tall, broad-shouldered, imposing man. Though he was not native Alethi, his war-mongering tendencies and capability for cruelty and greed were among the highest in all the warcamps. Shouto, being the king’s son, had grown up with stories of this legendary man being practically shoved down his throat. The Firebrand, they called him, back when he singlehandedly brought the fractured princedoms together through brutal conquest. He had been just barely twenty in those days, yet men had feared him, even in distant Iri. Now, all this time later, he still looked as youthful and in his prime as Shouto imagined he had when conquering Alethkar. Truly, it was as though he was blessed by the Heralds themselves.

It angered Shouto to no end. Why should an awful, despicable man like Enji Todoroki be blessed with all this? Perhaps this was one big joke on by the Almighty. It would fit right in among the other jokes of Shouto’s life.

He shook his head, attempting to clear it. Now was not the time for anger. Before him, Enji’s war room awaited, where the king and his generals strategized and held the future of Alethkar in their hands. Shouto had been in there before, but it hadn’t been long before he was mocked out of the room. What did they even get done? For all their strategy, the Parshendi were no closer to being dead. Shouto was tempted to sneak up close to the doorway and listen in, but he knew that if he were noticed he would just be made fun of again. Perhaps his father might even join in. Sighing, he resigned himself to waiting until the men were finished before speaking with the king. With luck, the meeting might have gone so well that Enji would actually be in a good mood.

Something caught his eye. A spot of black. Shouto turned sharply, and narrowed his eyes on a small black  _ person _ floating just around the corner. It bobbed in and out of view, seeming to almost be  _ shy _ . What was this? Some sort of spren? It resembled no spren Shouto had ever seen before. Tentatively, all thoughts of speaking with his father gone from his mind, he crept along the wall towards the thing.

As he approached, the spren seemed to grow more bold, and floated clearly into view. Yes, it  _ was _ a person--or at least mostly. It had a black silhouette similar to his own, mostly covered by a long robe. Above it’s shoulders was undeniably the head of a chicken, with a long beak and large protruding feathers angled back. Its skin reflected in a rainbow sheen at certain angles, like oil. What was this? Some sort of oilspren? Was that even a thing?

“Shou...to?” The spren whispered from its beak, its voice surprisingly deep for its size.

Shouto blinked.  _ Now it’s calling my name? I must be going crazy. _

“Shouto,” the spren again whispered.

“Wh...what?” He whispered back, shooting a glance behind him to make sure no one else could see him, in case he really was hallucinating this.

“Shouto...Todoroki,” the spren said. It almost seemed to be testing the words out, playing with them, not fully grasping what they meant.

“Yes?” He said softly.  _ What am I doing? _

“SHOUTO!” A booming voice came from behind him.

He snapped to attention, bolting upright. Enji Todoroki stormed out of the war room, a flood of generals exiting behind him, a stern expression on his face. Reluctantly, Shouto bowed his head in a sign of respect. “Yes, father?”

“What are you doing here? You have duties to attend to! Aren’t you supposed to be checking on the highprinces?”

“I have made certain they are all aware of and following your new law,” Shouto replied, doing his best to keep the irritation from his voice. “As well, I have gone through all your ledgers, inspected each warcamp’s sets of Shardplate, and determined exact rates of traffic in and out of the Shattered Plains. Everything you asked of me.” As he said the tasks out loud, he realized how disconnected they all were. Important duties, yes, but why had Enji asked his own son to do them?  _ Busywork, in all likelihood. _ It stung to admit it to himself.

Enji blinked. “Oh. Well why are you here outside my war room? There should be plenty to occupy you elsewhere.” As with everything, he spoke the words in a growling tone, as if he was just seconds away from bursting into a furious rage.

“I have matters to discuss with you.” Shouto braced himself for his father to get mad, or laugh at him, or reject him without a second thought.

“Matters?” The king frowned at Shouto. “What could you possibly have to discuss with me?”

_ Well, at least he seems more open than I was expecting. _ “War tactics, father. A strategy to end this war for good.” Would his father even take to the idea? Shouto hadn’t considered it, but perhaps the man actually  _ enjoyed _ wasting time picking away at the Parshendi.

Enji let out a booming roar of a laugh. “HA! You, discuss tactics? What could a boy who’s never even seen a day of combat know about war?”

Shouto’s blood boiled. Even his father mocked him.  _ You’re the one who forbids me from fighting! _ “I’ve read more than enough books on the subject. I’ve seen your war council meetings. I’ve talked with others who have fought in the battles. Most importantly, I’ve seen how we can defeat the Parshendi once and for all.”

Enji regarded his son with an almost curious expression. “Is that right? Alright, I’ll humour you. Go on.”

Shouto blinked.  _ He’s actually listening? _ The king must have been in an exceptionally good mood. “All together, the Alethi far outnumber the Parshendi. We have plenty of troops, supplies, and bridges. If all of us were to venture out together, all at once, all ten highprinces, we could weather any highstorms with our Soulcasters, and cross any plateau with our numerous bridges. We would be like a stormwall sweeping across the Shattered Plains, with none to resist our combined strength. No matter where the Parshendi hid, we would find them, with all of our scouts. We could end them in one decisive battle.”

For a long moment, Enji was silent. Then, he broke into raucous laughter. Shouto felt his face burn as the king slapped his thigh in mirth. “You,” he managed between laughs, “you really think that would work? My son, the fool!”

“It’s a sound strategy!” Shouto protested, feeling more and more like a stubborn child. “We have more than enough resources to manage it! There’s no reason to not do it!”

The king’s laughter at last seemed to die down. He wiped a tear from his eye and regarded Shouto with a cruel grin. “Shouto, you must be one of the Ten Fools if you’ve forgotten one simple fact. The highprinces, they don’t work together. This is all a competition, a game to them. If we marched together, they would lose out on their squabbles, their contest. Not to mention that they wouldn’t even think about actually sticking their necks out to help each other in such a ludicrous last march. Alethi think first about themselves, then about their wallets. Never about how they could help each other.”

“It doesn’t matter if they don’t want to,” Shouto said hurriedly. “You’re the king! You could just order them to do so! They’d hate it, but they’d do it!”

“If I did that, they’d tolerate this no longer. Alethkar would shatter, and the princedoms would break into all out war with each other. Everything I’ve worked for, all of it would have been for nothing.”

Shouto studied his father. Perhaps the man was right...or perhaps he was making excuses.  _ Do you really want the Parshendi dead, father? Or are you like the rest of them, enjoying this little game, in no hurry to see it finished? You hardly utter Mother’s name anymore, even though she’s the whole reason why we are at war.  _ Enji’s grizzled face betrayed no emotion, but his eyes...there was a  _ fire _ in those eyes. Shouto was surprised to see it. He could feel its familiarity; that was a fire much like the one that burned within him. But not a fire against all the injustices he was being put through, no--Enji’s fire was for the Parshendi. Wasn’t it?  _ What else could it be for? _

Or maybe Shouto was reading too much into things. He didn’t dare ask his father directly about the matter; questioning the true purpose of the Alethi’s presence in the Shattered Plains had already earned him enough deadly glares from others.

“Tell you what,” Enji said after a moment. “Were the highprinces to actually agree to this plan, I would have myself a genuine strategy for taking down the Parshendi, without running the risk of my kingdom falling apart. If you can convince every highprince to take part of your plan, I will allow it.”

Shouto stared in shock at his father.  _ Every _ highprince? He’d have a difficult enough time convincing one.  _ But, he is letting me try, even if it’s a backhanded way of doing so. _ This was more than Enji usually allowed his son. So long as Shouto had a chance, he could make a difference.

“I’ll point you in the right direction, okay?” Enji continued. “Highprince Aizawa. He’s always been critical of this war, and wants nothing more than to be done wasting troops and go back home to Alethkar. I’m sure he’ll be the easiest to win over. I’ll assign you to aid him in planning a strategy. You can get to work tomorrow.” He chuckled, the sound taking on a dark, cruel quality. It was clear: Enji didn’t think Shouto would succeed. Why would he? Recruiting all ten highprinces was like asking someone to stand out in the open highstorm and survive. It was simply impossible. 

But Shouto had faced impossible all his life. He’d been given a chance, and so he’d take it. “Alright.” With that, he turned on his heel and left his father behind. 

His mind began to work as he walked down the palace halls. Aizawa. It was true that he was the least enthusiastic about the war. Would it really be so easy to convince him to join in on Shouto’s plan? Or did Enji do this on purpose, knowing somehow that Aizawa would be a much more difficult challenge than appearances would suggest?

As he found himself alone in the hallways with just his thoughts, a small black spot reappeared before him. Shouto flinched, backing away in a panic. The tiny black spren bobbed forward, its posture curious.

Shouto glanced around him. Did anyone see this? But there was no one around. Perhaps that was for the best. He didn’t want to be branded as crazy along with everything else. “Are… Are you a voidbringer?” He managed to say, failing to keep the tremble of fear out of his voice.  _ Pathetic. The prince of Alethkar, scared of an illusion.  _

The creature stared at the ground, still for a moment as if it were trying to remember something. It looked back up at Shouto and croaked back, “N… No?”  _ Well, it sure sounds confident about that.  _

Face to face with the potential harbinger of the Desolations was not something Shouto was prepared to deal with after a day of dealing with both Bakugou Katsuki and his father.  _ I mean...it couldn’t be a voidbringer, could it? The Desolations are long over and none of the stories described Voidbringers to be quite so… small.  _

“What are you then and why are you speaking to me?” 

There was a pause once more, before the inky mass managed to speak. “I’ve… come for Shouto Todoroki.”  _ Wait. Is that a mask or is this creature actually managing to speak out of a beak? _

“Why me? How do you know my name?” Was what Shouto attempted to cry out, before his voice was drowned out by a loud rushing noise. 

Shouto panicked and looked around. Nothing about his surroundings had changed, but the sound persisted. He could only describe it as a storm of pebbles, small objects hitting one another as they rush over him. He could see no source of the sound, however, just the familiar palace hall. 

“WHAT’S HAPPENING?” Shouto attempted to call out, except the sound only got louder. The intensity of it made him almost keel over and he could feel his ears pop. The lamps close to him suddenly went dark, the stormlight being drained from them all at once. When Shouto looked to the ground, he could see that his shadow was pointing  _ towards _ the distant light down the hallway, rather than away.  _ What’s going on? _ He thought frantically.

The creature slowly floated towards him in a way that looked almost hesitant, clearly unaffected by whatever it was that Shouto was experiencing.  _ It must be what’s causing all this. I have to get away, find somewhere safe. Momo, she’d know what to do.  _

Shouto took a couple breaths to ground himself, then ran past the possible Voidbringer as fast as his shaken legs could take him. The creature lazily followed him, the sound growing to deafening levels.  _ Have to get away! _ He only turned around to soulcast a thick layer of vapour in a last ditch effort to confuse his attacker. Eventually the rushing sound turned into a mere trickle as he shot across the hallways, before disappearing entirely. It was only when he finally reached Momo’s chambers that he risked stopping to catch his breath and looked around to make sure he wasn’t followed. When no familiar black figures seemed to appear, he allowed himself a sigh of relief.  _ Maybe that was all some surreal hallucination. Someone drugged my tea today or something. Natsuo played a friendly prank on me. _

Deep within his heart, he knew what he just experienced couldn’t have actually happened, but...it had felt so  _ real _ . Was he actually going insane? _ Wonderful. Just what I need. _ He shook his head as he caught his breath. Whatever all  _ that _ had just been, it was gone now, all trace of the sound or his backwards shadow vanished. Off to the side, a servant stared at Shouto in shock. He flushed.  _ I must look as crazy as I feel. _ He stood up straight, taking a deep breath. He was a prince. He couldn’t afford to be seen running amok through the halls.

He eyed the door he’d stopped at. Momo’s quarters. Well, if he was here, he might as well tell her how his talk with Enji had gone. Perhaps it would get his mind off of...whatever had just happened.

The highstorm, which had clearly finally arrived, made the floor lightly tremble beneath him. With a shaky hand, Shouto went to knock on the door before he heard the muffled, but distressed voice of Momo from inside her bedchamber, along with a sudden thunk.  _ The Voidbringer is in there with her! _ He grabbed at the doorknob, to find it locked. 

Fueled by pure adrenaline at this point, Shouto backed up and then rammed his shoulder into the wooden door as hard as he could muster. It only creaked under his weight while the sharp pain shot up his arm, but a few more tries he managed to break the lock. 

Shouto barged into the room, only to find Momo tied to a chair. Two servants flanked her sides, but the Voidbringer was nowhere to be seen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shouto sees a weird illusion, forgets about it for a while, and then promptly decides that the apocalypse has returned


	8. Visions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It is too late, now. I apologize, for not doing more. I hope what I have done is enough. Unite them. It is what will save you. Unite them, and save your people.” The Iriali woman looked Momo dead in the eyes as she spoke those last words. A shiver went down Momo’s spine.

Momo blinked. The palace room had disappeared, as had the muffled rumbling of the stormwall sweeping over the warcamps. Gone were her servants, who, hopefully, tied her down sufficiently. Now, she stood in a stone hut; it seemed Soulcasted. Darkeyed men and women of all ethnicities flanked the edges of the room, garbed in what Momo inferred to be servant’s clothes. Momo herself, to her surprise, was wearing a set of large Plate. It felt odd; women didn’t wear Shardplate. But, she knew these visions always took place thousands of years ago, and customs had to be different in the past.

She was standing in the middle of the room, at a table. A large map was laid out across it, with lines and drawings and pieces scattered across it. A strategy map. While the locations looked foreign, she thought she recognized one of the bays of the Tarat Sea in the bottom corner. Around her, other men and women in Plate stood. An Azish man, in blue Plate, an Iriali woman in green, and an Alethi man in red. Their Plate all seemed to glow, as did their eyes. Momo shivered.  _ The Lost Radiants. _ So many of them, in one place. She glanced down at the Plate she wore. Did they see her as a Radiant as well?  _ What the ardents would say if they could see me now… _

“Ren? What do you think?” The Azish man asked, his voice deep. He looked to Momo expectantly.

She blinked. What were they talking about? “Um. I...am not certain myself.” Did that sound natural? If she played along, perhaps she’d get some answers.

“This doesn’t feel right to me,” the Iriali woman muttered, staring at the map. “It’s been too easy, so far. This is supposed to be one of the most fortified positions there are, and yet it was a breeze to knock down their defenses. It smells of a trap.”

The Azish man nodded. “Agreed. Yet my preliminary fly-overs yielded no new information. If there is any trap laid beyond that wall, it’s hidden well.”

The Alethi man in red spoke up, his voice irate. “We’d know more if Yui were back already.”

“Give her time,” the Iriali woman said with a patient voice. “Spying is no easy task. She may have run into some trouble.”

Momo watched them all speak, grateful that they seemed to have forgotten about her. Desperately, she tried to piece together what they were talking about. A fortified location? Traps? So they were attacking a fortress, or sieging it.

Suddenly, a woman burst into the room, shoving past two servants. Breathless, she ran up to the table. “I messed up. They saw through me; I don’t know how. Something’s coming. Something bad.”

The Azish man clenched his jaw. “Then we gather our forces. On the attack! Rally the troops!”

Hurriedly, several of the servants rushed out. All three of the Radiants, plus the newcomer, walked out at a quick pace, the Azish man gesturing for Momo to follow. She hastily made her way out of the meeting room, down a stone hallway and out into the daylight. While she’d heard stories and had seen shardplate in action several times, she was surprised by the fluidity of her movement in the bulky armor. 

A camp was set up, large and with plenty of soldiers, stretching out across a stoney field. Distantly, an ocean covered the horizon, and in the other direction a stone fortress rose from the ground. As the call went out through the camp, soldiers quickly strapped on armour and weapons. They wore mostly leather, and seemed to have only basic weapons on hand.  _ This truly  _ is _ the past. _ What army would wage war without proper armour? 

“Ren,” the Azish man gestured again. “You’re with me. I may need support.”

Momo gulped, but followed him as he broke into a trot in the direction of the fortress. “Support? For what?” She asked. Would the question seem odd?

“For whatever Yui has awakened,” he answered. “Even she didn’t seem to know. I have a bad feeling about this.”

Momo gulped again. What could she possibly do, if this turned into a fight? She wasn’t trained in the blade. Storms, it didn’t even seem like she had a weapon at all. She had Plate, though...perhaps whoever she was taking the place of had a Shardblade bonded?  _ How am I supposed to summon it? Ten heartbeats, right? _ She took in a deep breath, and put her hand out, willing the blade to appear.

Ten heartbeats passed. No Blade appeared. She sighed. Of course not.

She and the Azish man rushed past the last of the soldier’s tents. Before them, empty stone plain stretched out, and then the fortress, protected by a towering wall. A distant rumble shook the ground. Then, a man’s bellowing scream, from where the fortress was. A figure jumped, inhumanly high, over the wall, and landed with a  _ crack _ on the ground before it. A person, at least, Momo thought, though their skin was crusted over with purple crystal and their eyes glowed with what looked like hatred. She felt herself freeze. This was the threat they were facing? How was she supposed to fight  _ that _ ?

“Blade out, Ren,” the Azish man muttered. “This will likely take everything we have.  _ Storms, _ I never suspected Yelig-nar would have been  _ here _ of all places. Should have known.” He opened the pouch on his side, and Stormlight  _ flowed _ from the spheres to his nose and mouth, entering him, emanating from him. Momo gawked as he suddenly floated into the air, gravity seeming to have lost all purchase on him. A Shardblade appeared in his hands, and he suddenly moved trajectory, shooting off towards the crystal person.

Momo hesitantly stepped forward.  _ Almighty, what nightmare have you placed me in now? _ Futilely, she tried yet again to summon a Blade, but nothing appeared in her hand. Ahead, the Azish man clashed with the crystalline person, his Blade remarkably unable to cut through the crystal arm. As he fought, he continued to float through the air--and, to Momo’s shock, the crystal foe began to float as well. The two battled in the air, leaving Momo to stare in awe.

“Ren!” A voice came from beside her. She blinked, and turned to see the Alethi man in red appear. “What are you doing? We need to help!” He rushed past, summoning a Blade of his own. As he ran, his feet began to slide along the ground as though it were ice.  _ What…? _

Forcing herself forward, Momo walked closer to the crystalline creature. There was no doubt in her mind these Plated people were Radiants.  _ So the Radiants really  _ did _ have incredible powers. _ If she was supposed to be a Radiant right now, did she have powers? She tried to will herself to fly, or to slide along the ground. Nothing worked. She groaned.

“This was a bloody battle,” a voice came from behind her. A deep voice, booming, seeming to cut through the conflict ahead. Momo turned, seeing the Iriali woman in green speaking. It wasn’t her voice. No, it was the same voice that greeted Momo at the end of every vision.

“One of the worst Desolations,” the Almighty continued. “Their forces were destroyed, every Radiant brought down. Even Kirou, the Bondsmith, who had to be brought in, could not stop Yelig-nar.

“Yet humanity persevered. United, they stood strong. If only it could have stayed this way… perhaps I failed, somewhere along the way. I come back to moments like this battle more and more, these days. To see a time when mankind persisted. To see if I could identify when it all went wrong. Somewhere, in the past, did I make a fatal mistake?

“I cannot know. It is too late, now. I apologize, for not doing more. I hope what I have done is enough. Unite them. It is what will save you. Unite them, and save your people.” The Iriali woman looked Momo dead in the eyes as she spoke those last words. A shiver went down Momo’s spine.

A distance away, the crystalline creature jabbed a crystal blade through the Azish man’s chest. The scene suddenly dissolved, the plain and fortress and Radiants disappearing. The palace reappeared, along with the rumbling highstorm, and--to her surprise--Shouto, shaking her by the shoulders.

“--mo! Wake up please!” His eyes were filled with a desperate fear, much more intense than what Momo was used to from him. 

“Sh… Shouto?” Momo managed to cough out, her voice sore from the ramblings that usually occurred during the visions, her scrambled mind still struggling to catch up to her new environment. 

Shouto’s expression broke out into a relieved smile and he surprisingly wrapped Momo into a tight hug. The gesture surprised Momo, as from what she observed, Shouto hadn’t grown up receiving any affection or positive reinforcement, and friendly touches between the two were thus rare. “Hey Shouto. Uh, would you be so kind to get me out of these ropes?” In response to Momo’s request, Shouto’s arms unwound themselves from her and reached towards her ties. Her hands fell loose to her sides, followed by the release of her bound feet as he soulcasted the ropes to smoke in the blink of an eye. 

“Ah, brightness. Your water.” Momo’s servant, Inari, reached to hand her the glass to sooth her dry throat, as per their usual tradition. She was interrupted when Shouto shot up, standing protectively between Momo and the two women.  _ Storms I almost forgot, he doesn’t know about my visions.  _

“What did you  _ do _ to her? I’ll have you tried for treason for this,” he demanded, pure rage seeping through his words. 

Momo stumbled to her feet, still feeling dizzy from her vision, and grasped Shouto’s arm as if to tell him to stand down. “Shouto please. I know this looks suspicious but you have to hear me out. They were only helping me, this was all at my request. In fact,” Momo turned to address her servants. “I think it’s best that you two get back to your other duties. Thank you again for helping me, and don’t worry. You’re not in any kind of trouble.” She shot Shouto a look to make sure he wouldn’t object to her authority. He returned a displeased expression of his own, but didn’t object as the servants hastily shuffled out of the room. 

Momo let out a tired sigh and crossed the room to flop onto her bed. It had been a  _ very _ long day and she no longer cared for having any air of maturity, especially if it was only Shouto in the room. 

“So, I’m sure you have plenty of questions,” she began, sitting up in a more comfortable position. She gestured to the space next to her and Shouto took the invitation, settling himself on the end of the bed. His body language was much different now, more uncertain and guarded now that his initial protective reaction had worn off. Momo was sad to see him more retracted into his shell, but it wasn’t a surprise given the circumstances. “I’m sorry, Shouto, but I have to admit I’ve been hiding quite a bit from you. I think it would be simpler if I began from the beginning, if that’s ok?” Shouto nodded, eyebrows furrowed inquisitively, though he still had yet to actually say anything. 

Momo took a moment to focus on calming her racing heartbeat and gathering her thoughts before she began. “You may have not noticed this but, but… around four months ago, when we got a huge spike in highstorms, I spent a great amount of time either sick or pulling all nighters in the library. I… was very confused and scared at the time. I still am. But I’ve adapted over time.” 

She looked away from Shouto, suddenly too scared to look him in the eye. This was her last chance to make something up, give him a believable story. Maybe something about experiencing night terrors, or a sleepwalking condition. That wasn’t too outlandish and wouldn’t brand her as a heretic. 

_ For all you know, that's exactly what this is,  _ the skeptical part of her mind said. Momo didn’t know which possibility scared her more. 

She risked a glance in Shouto’s direction and accidentally locked eyes with him. He had always been an intense person, but had trouble displaying his emotions, leaving him to appear more reluctant and emotionless when that was  _ far _ from the truth. Right now, when he wasn’t shielding himself, a habit he’d sadly picked up in recent years, Momo could read him like a book. His eyebrows were furrowed and even with the large scar covering the left side of his face, his worry for her was obvious. The last time she saw him so worried for her was when he found her hidden in the library after a particularly bad breakdown over a confrontation she had with a brightlady about her parents. He never failed to be there for her during the loneliest period of her life.

_ This is my brother, _ Momo concluded.  _ I may not know what’s going to happen after this conversation, but I trust him with my life.  _

Suddenly fueled with confidence, Momo straightened her back and continued. “I’ve been experiencing visions. When a Highstorm comes I black out and find myself not just seeing, but living through the ancient Desolations from the perspective of an individual of that time. I’ve been a farmer, a citylord… Storms Shouto, I was just one of the  _ knight radiants _ . And to top it all off, I know this sounds unbelievable, but I have reason to believe that these visions are from the Almighty himself.” 

A silence settled over the two of them as Momo waited for Shouto to react. He blinked a few times, showing no visible reaction. 

Momo bit her lip, suddenly unsure of her decision, when Shouto finally spoke. “What do you think the Almighty wants from you?”

…

_ What? _

“You just believe me? Shouto, you must realize how ridiculous I sound,” Momo gaped. 

Shouto shrugged. “Of course I do. You’re the smartest person I know and I trust you. If you say you’re getting visions from higher powers after months of no doubt running in circles with questions, then I’ll believe you.” 

Momo blinked in confusion.  _ This is the best case scenario but… it feels too convenient. Shouto has always been a bit gullible and superstitious but he’s no idiot. Believing me at face value like this is… weird. There has to be more to this. _

“Have you ever… heard of any situations like mine? Encountered it even?” Momo tentatively asked, reluctant to suddenly push suspicion on Shouto. If there was anything to him believing in her visions outside of pure trust, the last thing Momo would want to do is pressure him into silence. 

Shouto paused for a second and looked at his lap with an unreadable expression. “... No I’ve never heard of anything like this before.”  _ He didn’t necessarily reply to the second half of my question, _ Momo noted. 

“I figured as much,” Momo said with a sigh. “Well, thank you Shouto. For listening and believing me. You have no idea what that means to me.” Shouto smiled in return and, surprising Momo for the second time today, reached out to hug her. “You don’t have to thank me, you can tell me anything.” 

Momo pulled away from the embrace to look Shouto in the eye. “You know the same applies to you right? I’ll be here to listen no matter what.” 

Worry struck Shouto’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Well in that case, would you like to hear about how my meeting with my father went?” He asked, grimacing. _Storms, that’s not a good sign._ _I hope his ideas weren’t shut down._

“Of course I would. Did it not go well?” She inquired. 

Shouto frowned. “He gave me a chance to prove that we could get the Highprinces to work together but… I was left with a nearly impossible task and virtually no support.” 

A chance! It might not be much, but Momo was certainly up for the challenge of helping him. A grin crept on her face. “Tell me everything.” 


	9. Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shouto blinked, seemingly too shocked to say anything. Katsuki was sure he’d never had to face any criticism in his life before. His lack of response only solidified Katsuki’s point to him; this was not someone he would ever respect.   
> “Storm this, I’m out.” He turned to leave. Sorry, Aizawa, but I can’t accept this fool of a boy.  
> “You will do no such thing!” Shouto called, his voice suddenly firm and demanding.

Katsuki’s eyes blinked open as the light streaming from the door frame crept over his face. He groaned as he sat up, muscles aching from training the night before. Making his way to his dresser, he picked out his uniform, wrinkling his nose at the sign of some of the seams of his left sleeve coming loose.  _ Alethkar prides itself for having the most funded and organized army, yet we can hardly afford any decent tailors around here, _ Katsuki silently spewed, making a mental note to take care of the stitches himself when he got off duty. 

He made his way to the kitchens of Aizawa’s camp. There were more and more restaurants making home around here with much better quality food, but the army’s meals were much closer to the training grounds so he opted for the bland tallew with dried fruits instead. 

It was early enough in the morning that most soldiers were still asleep. The few that were there were tired enough that they hardly registered their superior officer being in their presence until they suddenly stumbled out of their seats to salute him when Katsuki slammed his hand down on their table. “Either  _ wake up _ or go back to bed. All of you are as useless as crem being this tired,” He snapped, storming off to retrieve his breakfast. 

A loud laugh suddenly rang out and Bakugou’s head shot in the direction it came from, fully prepared to commit murder. He relaxed when he locked eyes with Inasa Yoarashi, Aizawa’s second in command. 

“Katsuki! I didn’t know you were such a morning grouch,” He bellowed. Inasa always had such a boisterous personality that always took the form of him practically yelling everything he said, no matter his mood. Though Katsuki recognized he did much of the same, Inasa’s energy often threw him off guard. Few times had he met someone with the volume to match his own, though it would make sense to find people like that in the army.

“Cheer up why don’t’cha!” Inasa continued, grating on Katsuki’s nerves. He was a Lighteyes, born into wealth and the world at his fingertips. Though Katsuki respected him for his talent and the work he put into it, and truly believed that he earned his position as General and Highlord of Aizawa’s army, he was still lighteyed and had his moments of ignorance that Katsuki had to learn not to take as a personal attack. His current casualness was likely him trying to raise the soldier’s spirits. What he failed to realize was that he was undermining Katsuki’s authority; who, despite his eyes being a permanent bright red at this point, was still viewed as darkeyed and that reflected in how his lighteyed subordinates responded to him. He had to make them fear him to get any level of respect around here.

“Is there a  _ reason _ you’re deigning to visit me this morning, General?” Katsuki replied, not quite able to keep all the anger from his voice. Using such stilted, formal speech like that was irritating and difficult, but hopefully it would communicate to Inasa that casual speech was to be avoided in the presence of the men.

Inasa paused with a frown, the formal words likely taking him off guard. “Well, I was gonna chat with you, but if you’re on duty…”

Grinding his teeth together, Katsuki sighed. “We can  _ talk _ in a moment. Wait for me outside.” He probably should have made that a request, as Inasa was of a higher rank than he was, but in the heat of his emotion Katsuki didn’t find it in him to care.

Inasa shrugged, but obeyed, turning on his heel and leaving the barracks. Katsuki turned his sights on the men; they were still hurrying to get ready, throwing on uniforms and polishing their weapons as quickly as they could manage. Glaring at them all, Katsuki clapped his hands together. “Training time, men! I want you all out there, running laps! We haven’t gone on a gemheart run in quite a while, so I imagine your legs are nothing but twigs. I won’t stand for soldiers with twigs for legs! Get moving!” He pointed out the barracks, and all the men who were ready rushed out in a semi-organized fashion. Those who were still scrambling to put on their uniforms visibly panicked beneath his dark gaze, before at last leaving the barrack empty.

Sighing again, Katsuki strode out of the room, folding his arms as he watched the men begin to run laps. They seemed to have figured out their usual running formations, despite their sudden awakening. To the side, Inasa was leaned against the soulcast stone of the barrack’s exterior wall, watching in amusement.

“So?” Katsuki snapped. “What do you want?”

“I’ve been talking with Shouto Todoroki lately,” Inasa began.

Katsuki frowned. “That bratty prince?”

“Yes,” Inasa nodded, making no comment on the use of the word ‘bratty’. “He came to me with some propositions. Odd ones, if I’m being honest. Not sure what to make of them. He wants to work together, his armies alongside ours, to defeat the Parshendi.”

Katsuki stared. “ _ Defeat _ the Parshendi? Not win gemhearts?”

Inasa cracked a grin. “Crazy, right? Not only is working together practically unheard of, but he’s talking so grand scale I almost thought he was joking.”

“How would working together with us end the war?”

“He’s got some plan up his sleeve, I’m certain. He didn’t reveal everything to me, but I have a hunch it involves more than just the Aizawa princedom. Whatever his scheme is, it’s big. Real big.”

Katsuki frowned. “Alright. So why tell me this?”

Inasa eyed him. “I didn’t give Shouto a yes or no right away. I’m still thinking on it. But I told him that if he wanted our trust, he would have to prove he knows war tactics, and how to work together with us. So, I’m having him take part of our next gemheart run. He’ll come along, and help out with tactics. Meaning, you, as the head of the army in Aizawa’s absence, will have to work with him.”

Rage instantly burned inside Katsuki. “Work with  _ him _ ? That entitled brat? I’d rather go out into a highstorm unarmoured!”

Inasa cackled. “I’m well aware of your dislike of the prince. But you’re the head of the army right now, Katsuki. You can’t afford to let your desires or grudges get in the way of your duty. Like it or not, this is the direction I’ve decided to take. You’ll have to work with Shouto, no matter how much it pains you to do so. Can you manage that?”

That tone. Katsuki liked Inasa well enough, but even he spoke down to him, like he was a petulant child, like he wasn’t smart enough to understand what he meant. His rage began to bubble, but he forced it down for the moment, Aizawa’s earlier words coming back to him. “Yes.” The word was spat through clenched teeth and dripping with anger, but Inasa didn’t reproach him for it.

“Good. Shouto wants to meet with you directly, before the gemheart run occurs. After you’re done with running training, head back. He’ll be waiting for you.” With that, Inasa walked off, throwing a casual wave behind him.

Katsuki stewed, his eyes staring at the men running and huffing and wheezing before him, but taking in none of it. Inside of him, a maelstrom of emotions warred. On the one hand, he was happy that they would at last be guaranteed a gemheart run, assuming one happened close enough to their side of the warcamps--Aizawa ran a good army, but he never had risked it often enough for Katsuki’s liking. On the other hand, going on a gemheart run would mean working with  _ Shouto Todoroki _ of all people. It would mean Katsuki wouldn’t be able to leave tactics to someone else and jump wildly into the fray of battle; now that Shouto would have sway over the flow of battle and over the strategy Aizawa’s army followed, Katsuki couldn’t afford to leave him by himself in the strategy tent. He’d have to forgo any fighting in favour of making sure Shouto didn’t get all his men killed. It was like a cruel, evil knife was being twisted into his side. Like the Almighty was dangling everything Katsuki wanted before his face, just before pulling it away and smacking him over the head.

He stood there, tapping his foot anxiously. Absently, he extended his right hand, allowing the sounds of the training grounds to fade away until all he could hear was the beating of his own heart.  _ Ten...nine...eight...seven...six… _

He blinked, suddenly.  _ What am I doing? _ Not that there was anything wrong with having his shardblade summoned, but it  _ did _ suggest he was looking for a fight, or worse, to kill. He stopped counting heartbeats, and dropped his hand. 

Shaking his head, he tried to put Inasa and Shouto from his mind, instead focusing on the men. They were doing well, all things considered, even for lighteyes, and for the few hours he spent brutally whipping them into shape, there were barely any complaints. He put them through workout after workout, and they obeyed. Everything worked smoothly, like a well-oiled machine, and for a moment, Katsuki let himself forget about all his concerns.

But then the training ended. The men were clearly tired, their complaints becoming more frequent, and Katsuki knew he couldn’t avoid Shouto any longer. He reluctantly sent the lighteyes off to have a break, and shuffled off for Aizawa’s base. Weaving his way through the camp’s roads, he eventually arrived at the large stone structure, soulcast to withstand the highstorms from the east. Once inside, he asked about where Shouto was waiting, before reaching a large waiting room with a blazing hearth and expensive furniture.

Shouto waited there, sitting on a comfy-looking chair and sipping wine. In distinct contrast to Katsuki’s own general’s uniform, the prince wore silks and scarves, all in the latest fashion, as though he didn’t even realize a war was happening.

Standing, Shouto nodded to Katsuki. “General Bakugou. It’s good to meet you. Again.”

Aizawa’s words of warning returned to Katsuki. Biting back any vicious insults, he returned the nod. “I heard from Inasa. You want to work with us to defeat the Parshendi.”

“That I do. You’re in charge of Aizawa’s army at the moment, correct?”

“Yes.”

Shouto eyed him up with a blank stare. “I admit I was worried about our chances after I heard that your Highprince was gone, but I believe that your cooperation in this mission will lead to success.”

Katsuki thought of many obscenities and threats to scream while he leaped over the table and strangled the prince. Instead he replied with a small bow and said “My army is at your service.”

His lack of reaction got a single raised eyebrow out of Shouto, though Katsuki wasn’t going to dwell on whatever was going on in his mind. 

“That’s good to know. Our long term plan is to gain the favour of all the Highprinces and then finally end this war with a combined strike. Many of them are too focused on competition to even consider this, which is why we need a demonstration that cooperation on the Shattered Plains can be, well uh, profitable…” Shouto trailed off, his air of confidence slowly dwindling more as he spoke. “-Which is why I’m recruiting you, so we can lead troops together. To give them an example so that they will join our cause, and end the bloodshed and finally go home.” 

_ Storms. This is supposed to be the Heir to the Throne. What have they been teaching him all these years? _ Katsuki was taken aback by how mediocre this speech on how a seven year war war going to end was.  _ He isn’t built to be a leader at all, and he expects me to follow him to battle? _

Katsuki gritted his teeth. “What kind of half thought out plan is that?” He snapped. 

“Well, I mean, we’re still trying to figure out the details but that’s going to take time while we focus our efforts on recruiting the other Highprinces to the plan. But our collaboration will be a great start to it and will give lots of insight on how we can make this work.”

“No! You can’t come in here spewing GARBAGE of ‘we’ll end the war with the power of  _ friendship’  _ after years of not giving a damn. And I’m expected to blindly lead my men to their deaths because you woke up one day and decided that you wanted to be the special boy who gets to end the war. Fattam help us because we’re all DAMNED if this is the best we got.”

Shouto blinked, seemingly too shocked to say anything. _ I’m sure he’s never had to face any criticism in his life before. _ His lack of response only solidified Katsuki’s point to him, this is not someone he will ever respect. 

“Storm this, I’m out.” He turned to leave.  _ Sorry, Aizawa, but I can’t accept this fool of a boy. _

“You will do no such thing!” Shouto called, his voice suddenly firm and demanding.

Katsuki paused, glancing over his shoulder. The prince still looked half shaken, but his expression had darkened, and he seemed more in control of himself. “You will obey. I am your prince, and you are obligated to follow my commands.”

Half of Katsuki wanted to storm off, leave the boy in the dust, while the other half wanted to punch him. The two tied, and Katsuki was left standing there, unable to make a decision.

Shouto seemed to take that as a sign he’d decided to listen, and continued, his voice a tad shaky. “I don’t care what you think of me or my motives or my goals. I compel you to obey me. We  _ will _ be working together on the next bridge run, and you  _ will _ work with me to plan out the best strategy. Is that understood?”

Anger flashed in Katsuki’s heart. He turned back around, facing the prince, his eyes narrowing on Shouto. A half dozen insults, taunts, or flat-out refusals came to mind--then, Aizawa’s voice, reminding him not to be a fool.

_ But how can I just let him control me like this? Wound my pride and get away with it? It’s not right! _

Katsuki forced himself to live with it anyway. “Fine, you storming fool. But when this goes belly-up, don’t expect me to save you from all the mockery you’ll receive.”

Shouto’s expression softened into an approximation of relief, and he nodded. “Good. I look forward to working with you.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, and walked out.


	10. Travelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You...you regret your life, then?” He at last responded, quietly.  
> Toshinori thought on that for a moment. “Regret it? Parts of it. Big parts. But not all. There has been much heartache, but in the end, it has been worth it. For those grateful expressions I get to see whenever I save people. For the knowledge that what I do protects those who cannot protect themselves. The world is full of little people, young Izuku. It is up to those of us with the power to protect them to do so. Remember that.”

The trip home was uneventful thus far. Izuku tried to ask his travel companion many questions, but he was either distracted from the original conversation, or shut down each time. For all his bousious energy, the Symbol of Peace- or Toshinori, he insisted Izuku call him, mostly kept to himself during the trip, only initiating conversation to check up on Izuku. Curiously, he spent the majority of their time in his smaller form.  _ These roads are dangerous. We could stumble upon a bandit gang at any moment- wouldn’t it be better to appear stronger and more intimidating than to be a target? _ Izuku pondered.  _ Maybe he wants them to see us as small fry but… he hasn’t been the type so far to avoid trouble. Or it could be something else entirely? What even are these powers he has? I never heard of anything like it from the stories.  _

Izuku lost his train of thought as his balance suddenly shifted and his horse veered to a nearby grass patch. _ Ugh, not again.  _ He pulled the reins of his horse as hard as he could to no avail as it steered itself further and further from the road. 

He nearly fell over when he was suddenly jerked to the side once more as a very muscular arm reached over and yanked on the reins to get the horse back on its original path. 

“Be more resilient with your horse, young man! It won’t listen if you let it lead you around.” 

Izuku looked down, blushing. He was ashamed that a horse of all things could trip him up on his journey towards being a hero.  _ Being a hero? _ What was he thinking? Toshinori had already made it clear that such a future was lost to someone like Izuku. He’d tried to save that man, and look where it had gotten him. Unconscious and beaten. He was no hero. Just one of the Ten Fools, pretending he was someone better.

He glanced over at Toshinori beside him. Even now, in his more skeletal form, he still had a certain heroic look to him, the way he bravely fixed his eyes on the horizon, the way he held himself. This man  _ knew _ he was a hero; it was like the fact was buried within his very veins. Compared to Izuku, he was leagues away. 

Shaking his head, Izuku tried not to dwell on his own weakness. Eyes on the horizon. Like Toshinori. Don’t think about the past; focus on the future. The future.  _ Inko _ . His mother would be worried; Akihiro would have returned some time ago without Izuku. He could imagine the poor woman panicking, unable to do much of anything. What would she say when he arrived?  _ Probably scold me for being so stupid. _ It  _ had _ been pretty stupid, looking back. Who put themselves in danger like that? Katsuki would have mocked him for it.

Izuku’s thoughts drifted as they traveled, from his mother to his attempt at heroics, from his days with Katsuki to the Lost Radiants. The sun slowly crossed the sky, and the landscape seemed to crawl, its uniformity almost an insult, as if to mock Izuku further. Time was both at a standstill and speeding along, and Izuku almost forgot he was on horseback.

Eventually, Toshinori called for them to stop. Izuku blinked, returning to the present. “What’s wrong?”

The skeletal Toshinori hopped off his horse. “Lunch break. Aren’t you hungry?”

As if in response, Izuku’s stomach growled. Reddening, he dismounted awkwardly and tried to mimic Toshinori as the older man tied his steed to a nearby rockbud. Taking a seat on the flattest rock he could find, Izuku waited as Toshinori dug in the packs and pulled out some rations. Sitting down on a rock opposite Izuku, the Symbol of Peace handed him a pack of food and opened up his own, not hesitating to dig right in. Izuku was a bit more tentative, slowly unwrapping his rations and peering within. Lavis bread with an unidentifiable meat filling. Izuku suddenly found himself longing for his mother’s food.

Reluctantly, he took a bite, surprised at how decent it was. “So, um…” he managed between bites, “where’d you get horses from? I’ve...I’ve never seen them before.”

Toshinori grinned. “A long story. I’ve had these two for ages. They were gifts, from a friend. Served me well.”

Izuku looked up, studying the odd animals. They were far quicker than chulls, making them valuable, a commodity. For Toshinori to have him...maybe this was why he was the Symbol of Peace. Being able to get around that fast when trouble arrived could mean the difference between success and failure.  _ Of course, there’s still the matter of him being able to transform like that… _

“You’ve never rode a horse, I take it?” Toshinori said with a barking laugh. “Don’t beat yourself up too much. I haven’t met too many who have. They’re temperamental beasts, far more difficult to control than chulls. Takes skill and practice to ride them properly. Still, you’re not doing too bad for your first time.”

“Thanks,” Izuku murmured. He felt intimidated. This man was, in a way, like the Lost Radiants of old. It was strange to be in his presence, sharing a meal with him. As he ate, Izuku studied Toshinori. So mysterious; it was anyone’s guess as to the Symbol of Peace’s past. Even the fact that he had horses was mysterious. And what of that Windrunner glyph carved into wood that he had? 

Toshinori had answers, answers that Izuku couldn’t just let him pass by. “E-Excuse me!” He blurted. Toshinori raised an eyebrow, and Izuku found himself floundering. “U-Um, sorry, I just, uh, wanted to know, where did you get that...that necklace?”

Toshinori blinked, and dug into his shirt, pulling out the wooden glyph. “This?”

“Y-Yeah. Um, it’s...it’s a glyph of one of the Orders of Knights Radiant, right?”  _ Storms _ . Should he have kept the fact that he knew that to himself?

Toshinori nodded with a melancholic smile. “It is. Windrunner. The Order of protectors. Heroes. How’d you know that, son?”

Izuku hurriedly searched for an excuse. “Uh, just rumours, um, yeah…”

“Rumours, eh?” Toshinori regarded him with narrowed eyes, but said nothing else on the matter. “I got it a long, long time ago. A memento. Reminds me of why I’m here, what I’m doing. Nothing special.”

“Then, you-you’ve gone on a lot of adventures?”

He nodded. “If you want to call them that. Most of the time they didn’t feel like adventures. There was less whimsical exploration, and more brutal fighting. Blood and death. Murderers and victims. Mine has not been a pretty life, son. If I were you, I wouldn’t try to follow in my footsteps. You’ll only end up regretting it.”

A grim speech. Izuku sat there, silent. A small part of him, the part that had been irrationally holding on to the hope that Toshinori would relent and take him with him, shrunk with guilt. Toshinori was right. He was just a foolish boy, hoping that he might be able to make a difference.

“You...you regret your life, then?” He at last responded, quietly.

Toshinori thought on that for a moment. “Regret it? Parts of it. Big parts. But not all. There has been much heartache, but in the end, it has been worth it. For those grateful expressions I get to see whenever I save people. For the knowledge that what I do protects those who cannot protect themselves. The world is full of little people, young Izuku. It is up to those of us with the power to protect them to do so. Remember that.”

Izuku managed a small, hopeful smile. Still, he felt as if he was just a child before the Symbol of Peace. There was no doubt that Toshinori saw Izuku as one of the ‘little people’, rather than one of those with the power to protect them. In the same breath as he preached the value of heroism, Toshinori dismissed Izuku’s capacity for it. 

The conversation lulled into a stiffening silence, Izuku feeling too defeated to ask any more questions. 

Toshinori let out an awkward cough and got up from where he was sitting. “I’m going to go stretch my muscles out. A whole day on a horse can really take a hit on you, eh? I need to make sure I’m at tip top shape with these old bones. Feel free to continue eating.” He staggered off, leaving Izuku alone with the horses and his lunch. 

Izuku sat there, taking a couple more bites of his lunch, awkwardly stressing over what to do next.  _ He clearly doesn’t want me to join him…. But even if he is just stretching, this is a valuable learning opportunity. It can’t hurt to spy on him a little bit if that’s all he’s doing, is it?  _

Unable to smother his curiosity, Izuku followed in the direction the Symbol of Peace had gone. When he reached a small cluster of trees, pointed west from the strength of the Highstorms, he jolted at the sound of someone stepping on dry plants. 

Embarrassed and thinking he’d been caught red handed, Izuku jolted up to see the familiar flash of yellow of the Symbol of Peace, facing away from him in an open clearing. Upon realizing that Toshinori didn’t actually see him, he quickly found cover behind a tree.

The Symbol of Peace was switching between different forms while wielding a large stick in his hands as if it were a blade. His motions were delicate and fluid, with his legs spread out and he was moving around in circles, but his sword was held high and kept close to himself. 

Izuku marveled at the precision and mastery that the Symbol of Peace demonstrated. He began to copy some of the movements very awkwardly from his hiding position.  _ This isn’t like any fighting I’ve seen before, yet it feels familiar.  _ It hit him as Toshinori swept the stick out and then fell backwards, almost like a dance and without losing balance at all. 

_ Windstance, of course!  _ His heart jumped in pride at being able to recognize it, and the fact that he could finally see the pictures he’d spent so many years studying in action. Toshinori had his own style from what Izuku could see, clearly taking influence in how he fought from years of travelling the world. 

But wait. 

_ He knows how to wield a Shardblade?! Was he a Shardbearer? Does he still have his or did he lose it?  _

Izuku had heard of light eyes losing shards in formal challenges. Maybe that was the case here; the Symbol of Peace, a powerful lighteyes who was defeated and left his previous life in shame only to reinvent himself into a man of honour and a hero to the people. Storms, Izuku could imagine the look on Katsuki’s face if he were to tell him that he got to travel with someone like this. 

His foot slipped off the rock he’d been standing on, and suddenly Izuku fell roughly. Toshinori froze, and blinked in surprise as Izuku hurriedly got up and tried to preserve his dignity.

“Izuku? What are you doing, lad?”

Izuku flushed. “I, um...I wasn’t trying to...um, I’m sorry!”

Cracking a large smile and laughing, Toshinori waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it, my boy. It’s understandable you’d want to see what I can do. Come, why don’t you join me?”

“M-Me? Join you?” Izuku stammered. “I-I couldn’t! I’ve n-never held a sword before, much less a shardblade, and I’d just slow you down, and…”

“Nonsense!” The Symbol of Peace gestured for him to approach, and Izuku reluctantly obeyed. Searching in the brush, Toshinori came back with another long stick, of similar length to the one he already held. He tossed it to Izuku, who caught it awkwardly. “You know anything about stances, boy?”

_ Do I be honest? _ Would revealing his knowledge give away his obsession with the Knights Radiant? “U-Um...a little.”

Toshinori got into Windstance again. “This one’s called Windstance, named for its flowing, graceful movements. Hold your blade like this, with your dominant hand over your other. Keep your feet…”

He trailed off, staring at Izuku. As soon as his hands had gotten into the right position, the rest had been natural. Toshinori’s voice had faded, and Izuku moved with flowing grace, the positions he’d spent hours memorizing translating effortlessly into his body. He swung his stick with all the instinctive elegance of a lighteyed shardbearer, each swing transitioning seamlessly into the next. 

He froze, realizing what he was doing. “Erm...sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Izuku. That was incredible. This is your first time trying Windstance?”

Izuku reddened. “Well...I’ve tried it out a few times, like this, with sticks, but it’s been a while.”

“You’re a natural,” Toshinori said with a growing smile. “Come, let’s try Smokestance next.”

They both got into Smokestance, and with only minor corrections from Toshinori, Izuku mastered it quickly. Then, obviously growing excited, Toshinori told him to try Stonestance. Then Vinestance. Then a bunch of others. Izuku was less familiar with some of them, but it didn’t take long before he could employ them effortlessly. It seemed he had a talent for the stances, and Toshinori was clearly ecstatic about it.

“Amazing,” the Symbol of Peace at last breathed, an hour later. “You’re a natural, Izuku. A shame you’ve no Blade to show for it.”

Izuku flushed again. “The only darkeyes who get Blades are those who win them in battle. I could never...do that…”

Toshinori made no comment, instead staring up at the sky. The sun was just beginning its eventual descent towards the horizon. “We should be off. I apologize for getting us distracted. Your mother will be worried, and even with horses we shouldn’t be dallying.”

Izuku didn’t admit that he’d been enjoying the distraction.


	11. Plateau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sick feeling began to build in Shouto’s stomach. He turned away, feeling himself wretch. Was this war? A terrible clash of bodies and weapons, blood and gore and pain and death? The images of men and Parshendi alike dying gruesomely flashed in Shouto’s mind, permanently branded there, unable to be removed. 

Shouto jostled from his seat with a start when he heard the blaring sound of the battle horns. Momo, who was just reading him the latest weather predictions a couple seconds ago, jumped in surprise as well. 

“Do you think this is the one?” She asked, meeting his likely frantic gaze with one of her own. 

Shouto paused, not sure if he should dare to hope. “I don’t know. The last two were near Kayama’s camp, so hopefully the Almighty will favour us this time.” It had been several days since Katsuki agreed to go on a run with Shouto, but with the exception of Shouto presenting his basic strategy of how their plan with unfold, and adjusting it to Katsuki’s long length of criticisms he received, they had made little progress since a Greatshell had yet to make an appearance near any of their camps. Spending all this time waiting intensely, feeling like his future as King rode on where these lumbering beasts decide to go on a walk, had caused a seeping bitterness to grow towards the Highprinces that have gotten recently luckier than him. 

A series of notes sounded from the horn and Shouto dared not to breathe in fear that any noise he made would cause him to mishear it. Two deep, long notes sounded, followed by a shorter one, and Shouto’s heart raced with recognition. 

_ This is going to be either close to Aizawa or Inui’s camps depending on what the last note sounds. Inui has some of the fastest bridges out of all the Highprinces, we wouldn’t stand a chance racing him. _

The last note sounded, a short, high pitched cry. In that very moment it was one of the most beautiful things Shouto had ever heard, the identifying note of the plateau closer to Katsuki than any of the other Highprinces. 

Shouto shot out of his chair and was all but running out of the room, only pausing to turn and meet Momo’s eye. She gave him a warm smile and a nod, of which he returned before continuing on his way. 

The bodyguards standing at the doorway followed him. They were some of the few men who were under his command, skilled soldiers handpicked by Alethkar’s generals for the honour of protecting the next in line for the throne. Shouto felt as if their talents were wasted, since they have had yet to engage in any combat while protecting him. He had been so politically insignificant in the past years, despite his status, that these men served hardly any purpose to their country. Shouto was sure that these men felt the same, but he hoped that even if they wouldn’t be doing any of the brunt work, they would feel like they were doing some important work on this hunt. Maybe Shouto could earn some of their respect today. 

As they walked down the dark hallways, Shouto was reminded of the strange spren that visited him after his talk with his father. His eyes searched the walls for any sign of the creature, but thankfully there was no sign of him. The rushing sound has also had yet to make a reappearance. Shouto has been burning the glyph for protection each morning after waking, hoping that the Allmightly will hear him and keep him safe from whatever has been happening to him during the battle. 

Shouto met with the rest of his squad as he left the building, lined up and ready to go and meet with Katsuki’s forces. The men, for the first time in all that Shouto had known them, had an excited energy to their step as they crossed the plateau to where Katuski and his battalion were already heading off. 

Shouto frantically looked around for the bright red banner displaying the glyph of Aizawa’s house, signalling Katuski’s location within the fast moving mass of men. 

Stumbling through the crowd, even tripping over others a couple times, one of his guards finally spotted the Battalionlord and they were able to make their way to his location.

The battle hadn’t even begun and there was already chaos. Scribes and scouts stumbling in and out of the circle of soldiers surrounding Katsuki and his high ranking commanding officers, updating them on the situation, and then being sent back into the crowd to relay orders. At first glance it looked like an absolute mess, with the constant moving and shouting. But Shouto could admit that there was order to the madness, and Katsuki had a commanding presence. He was like the center of a storm, impossible to ignore as he pulled people in with his commands. Shouto originally looked down on him for his short temper and obnoxious attitude, but he could see how Katsuki was able to use it to earn himself such a high ranking. 

“Took you long enough,” Katsuki grunted when he noticed Shouto’s presence. 

“Your people certainly didn’t help,” Shouto shot back. “We had to practically shove them just to reach you.” 

“That’s your fault, Half and Half, not mine.” Katsuki turned away to acknowledge his commanders. Shouto’s rage towards the boy bubbled up. He was used to insults from Katsuki, but how  _ dare _ he in front of the people he would be leading today? 

Still, he had a point. What kind of prince was he if his own people wouldn’t make room for him to walk?

The two young men strode out onto the Plains, several squadrons forming up at the nearest permanent bridge. Shouto tried to calm his beating heart, still his nerves. He squeezed the chains of his Soulcaster, the cool metal a small comfort in the face of what was to come. This was it. Today would mark the start of Shouto finally making a difference in this storms-cursed kingdom. 

Katsuki glanced at him, face locked in his seemingly perpetual scowl. “And what are you going to do? Last I checked you didn’t have any Shards.”

“I will be in the general’s tent, discussing strategy.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, and a moment later his Shardblade appeared in his hand. “Don’t expect me to roll over and obey whatever ‘strategies’ you cook up, princeling. If you need me, I’ll be on the front lines.” With that, he stomped away, aiming for the Aizawa troops that were in formation before the first permanent bridge.

_ Figures he’d prefer to hit something instead of actually think anything through _ , Shouto thought, his jaw tightening in frustration. But, he  _ was _ just a general, a sword for Aizawa rather than a real strategist. Why should Shouto expect anything more?

A call went out, and the Aizawa troops began to march. They were slow-going, with those large lumbering machines pulled by chulls meant for crossing plateaus with no permanent bridges leading the group. Shouto found the devices fascinating, not only for their designs but for the fact that Aizawa used them at all. Why not employ bridge crews, like the king and most of the other highprinces did? They got to the gemhearts much faster.  _ Maybe this is a good sign, _ Shouto thought slowly as he trailed behind the troops. Aizawa was well known for being a good man, if a cautious one, and the fact that he didn’t rush for the prize might signal that he wasn’t as greed-obsessed as his fellow highprinces. It was a shame he wasn’t present at the moment, but for now, Shouto would be content with establishing a strong alliance with his princedom.

The chulls lumbered forward, the troops behind them, and the sun crawled across the sky almost faster than the army did. Shouto appreciated the meaning behind using mechanical bridges rather than bridge crews, and he had no doubt that a rested army would serve better than one that had been running all the way to the gemheart, but storms--at this rate the Parshendi would have the heart and be gone by the time they arrived. 

As they crossed plateau after plateau, Shouto was unable to avoid glancing down into the chasms below, dark pits with indiscernible bottoms. These plateaus...they were still such a problem, even now, six years after the war had started. There were permanent bridges, yes, but those only extended so far. Why weren’t there more? Why not make bridges across each and every plateau? Shouto thought he knew the answer. The highprinces continued to treat this war as though it was something temporary, despite their behavior that suggested the opposite. If they set down permanent bridges all across the Shattered Plains, well...it would mean admitting that the highprinces were taking up permanent residence way out east. A change of the seat of power.  _ That change is coming whether we set down bridges or not. _ It may have already arrived. 

Those chilling thoughts were ripped from Shouto’s head as the assault plateau came into view. It was crawling with Parshendi, a large lump in the middle of the rock being surrounded. Anticipationspren littered the soldiers as they approached and the chull machines set down their bridges. Shouto was near the back of the army, but even still he couldn’t push down that instinctual feeling of fear that made his fingers tingle and his throat go dry. He’d never actually been in battle before. What would it be like? Did the books on the subject do the experience justice? 

The strategy tent went up. Shouto tore his eyes away from the bridges being set down and slipped inside. Several men in Aizawa red stood in a circle around a table laid out with a scrawled out map, their wives seated with spanreeds at the ready. Shouto was the youngest person in the room, and felt vastly inferior despite his status as royalty.

“Men,” Shouto forced himself to say, nodding to them.

They nodded back, although he couldn’t help but read reluctant tolerance in their expressions.

“As I’m sure you’ve been informed, I am going to be aiding with strategy today. I don’t intend to interfere, but instead to work together with you all. Hopefully my ideas and fresh perspective will provide a new edge in the war. I look forward to assisting you.”

There were a few grunts and mumbled, “Yes, Your Majesty”’s, but no one seemed particularly enthused. Shouto stifled a sigh, and approached the table, gazing down at the map of the assault plateau.

The sounds of war interrupted his focus. Yells, screams, metal clashing against metal, arrows flying from bows, they all erupted in a clamour, each one like a dagger into Shouto. His eyes stared at the map, but in his mind all he could do was envision soldiers fighting, dying. Was Katsuki alright? Had he perished already?

_ No, you fool, the battle’s only just started. _ Since when did he care about  _ Katsuki _ ?

The generals around the table began to converse, pointing to places on the map and occasionally giving directions to runners or to their scribes. Shouto tried to keep up with them, to listen in, to grasp their words and give insight--but they were using terms that were alien to him, and they seemed to instinctively grasp the flow of battle, wordlessly comprehending what was happening and how to react. How did they so effortlessly understand what to do just from what runners told them? 

Those sounds continued to eat at Shouto. He felt helpless, lost, alone.  _ I’m supposed to be helping them. _ But all he could do was stand there, useless. Was this to be his legacy? A failed attempt at proving to his father that he knew what he was doing? Evidently that wasn’t true.

_ No. _

He just needed perspective. He needed to  _ see _ the battle, rather than hearing reports. Without a word to the other men, he turned on his heel and exited the strategy tent. His bodyguards attempted to follow him but he waved them off. He needed to take the time to focus and couldn't afford any distractions.   


War raged a short distance away. The true battle hadn’t reached the tent, but Shouto didn’t have to look far to see the destruction for himself. Men fought, swords slashing and arrows flying, the ground littered with Parshendi corpses and the bodies of men, the red and orange blood bleeding together. Shouto stood, transfixed. One man thrust his sword up into the face of a Parshendi, orange blood coating the weapon. Another man fell limp with a Parshendi ax buried in his neck.

A sick feeling began to build in Shouto’s stomach. He turned away, feeling himself wretch. Was  _ this _ war? A terrible clash of bodies and weapons, blood and gore and pain and death? The images of men and Parshendi alike dying gruesomely flashed in Shouto’s mind, permanently branded there, unable to be removed. 

He stumbled away from the tent. He couldn’t...couldn’t be seen like this. He was a  _ prince _ . One measly battle shouldn’t be enough to so thoroughly shake him. His stomach churned as he walked, and he felt his focus slip as the memories of a man’s insides spilling out of his torn-open belly replayed in Shouto’s brain, over and over and over and over. 

The sounds were growing louder. Shouting, cries for help, cries of pain and agony, orders being shouted amid the chaos, the grunts and groans of men swinging swords, the strangely calm humming of the Parshendi as they died. Every sound seemed to attack Shouto, assaulting him from all sides, a cacophony of noise that accompanied the images in his mind like music at a party. 

Where was he? He needed to get back to the tent, he needed to advise the army, he needed to confer with the generals. He needed to….needed to….

Absently, he noticed that a Parshendi had drawn a bow, and was pointing it straight at him.


	12. Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He and his men rushed forward, intending to reach the chrysalis that was open for harvesting, when a shout sounded behind Katsuki. 
> 
> “The prince!” 
> 
> Katsuki turned around to see one of his men pointing to the opposite side of the plateau, where storming Half and Half was wandering around the battlefield completely unarmed and with no protection. 
> 
> All Might’s balls what is the idiot doing? 
> 
> He had a decision to make, secure the gemheart that some of his men died to get to, or throw their efforts away to save the ignorant buffoon that was to inherit their kingdom.

Katsuki’s feet hit the ground as he leapt into the battle, flanked by skilled spearmen at his side. He would have preferred to be without them. Maintaining formation was incredibly important--he would know since it saved his life on numerous occasions--but he often found the Thrill pushing him to rush into the heart of the battle without having to worry about his men catching up. 

He pushed that feeling down and raised  _ Thunderclap  _ to strike at the Parshendi who was rushing towards him with a sword in hand. His blade passed through his attacker without resistance and he toppled over as his eyes turned black. Several other parshendi fell at his side as they rushed his spearmen, but were unable to make a dent on their formation. Most shardbearers were accompanied by their own squadron of men swordsmen, but Katsuki kept spearmen as his guard because of the familiarity it gave him to the early days in the army. 

The front lines of each army charged, and within minutes the battle was becoming more and more chaotic. Katsuki slashed in the air at the enemy, making sure to be careful to not trip over the bodies that quickly piled at his feet. The tireless killing was disorienting to him, and Katsuki called for his men to form a shield around him while he caught his breath and organized his thoughts. His job was to lead the frontal force to the chrysalis, while Aizawa’s strategists, and the  _ prince _ would be rushing orders to the archers and following squadrons on how to best support him. 

He took a moment to scan the plateau, trying to discern how close they were to the chrysalis, and more importantly, if it was looking like he or the enemy would reach it first. 

They were about three dozen yards from the chrysalis, the battle pushing them off course from their destination and more towards the far right of the plateau, but the parshendi looked to be in the same situation. If he could rush forward and push them away, the gemheart would be his to claim. 

Katsuki threw himself back into the rush of the battle, bellowing for his men to follow him. He spun, holding Thunderclap out, causing enemies to fall around him in a circle. He crashed into a parshendi who was about to land the killing blow on one of his soldiers, but he got up and kept pushing forward, trusting that one of his following guards would finish the job there. He dodged arrows hastily fired in his direction and took down several archers in the same breath. 

This is who he was always meant to be, not a lowly tailor serving lighteyes, but a leader in the world’s most powerful army, far above what most darkeyes… what Deku fantasized about. 

A sharp pain erupted in his shoulder, followed by a wet sensation. He turned around, slashing the air with his shardblade, coming face to face with an enemy thrusting his sword for a second strike. Fear that the parshendi soldier would hit him before he could stop his attack struck him. 

Before either blades made contact with their respective targets, the attacking parshendi suddenly jolted and fell over, with a spear sticking out of his back. Rikodo Sato, the head of Katsuki’s guard, stepped forward. 

“Good job on not storming it up there, Rikido.” Katsuki said, a little shakier than he would have liked. There was no way in damnation that Katsuki was going to explicitly thank him, lest he recognized that he messed up there, but he still hoped his message got across nonetheless. 

“Glad to see that you still need us from time to time, even with that fancy upgrade you have there.” Rikido retorted. Katsuki was unsure if he meant to imply that he was glad that Katsuki’s life was still on the line in the battlefield or not, but he wasn’t going to think about it too hard. 

“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” he snapped back, with no malice behind his words. 

Their conversation was cut short as another round of soldiers attempted to rush and overwhelm Katsuki, but he was easily able to brush them aside. While it would be very bad for their efforts, a part of him hoped for the challenge of a shardbearer being present in this battle. A real opportunity to prove himself once more. This plateau was far from where Alethi strategists had been able to identify where most of the Parshendi reserves were located, so this fleet was likely hastily put together from one of their outposts. Their strategy here would be to overwhelm Katsuki’s men into retreating and either go at the chrysalis with a hammer, or wait for the shardbearer to finally arrive and assist them with collecting the gemheart. 

Katuski called his men into formation and they continued their push, excited that they may actually win this fight giving them the energy they needed to break the Parshendi’s line. In that moment, when the enemy structure fell apart, their rhythms going off beat as they lost their composure, along with the vibrations in the earth coming from Katuski’s own men moving in formation, as one, he understood the clarity and unity that these rhythms brought the parshendi. 

He and his men rushed forward, intending to reach the chrysalis that was open for harvesting, when a shout sounded behind Katsuki. 

“The prince!” 

Katsuki turned around to see one of his men pointing to the opposite side of the plateau, where storming Half and Half was wandering around the battlefield completely unarmed and with no protection. 

_ All Might’s balls what is the idiot doing?  _

He had a decision to make, secure the gemheart that some of his men died to get to, or throw their efforts away to save the ignorant buffoon that was to inherit their kingdom. 

Katsuki hesitated, not sure what the right choice was here, knowing that he was losing precious moments the longer he thought about this. No one nearby seemed to notice Shouto’s situation, but if someone were to be called to attention, he would be dragged back to the safety of the tents. But that was a big if. All he wanted was to claim his prize, and someone much closer was bound to go rescue the prince, he should focus on his real goal. 

He had to decide between risking the life of the prince while they finished this run, or to give up completely and return in shame. 

But, glancing to the scattered Parshendi forces on a nearby plateau, it was obvious that they noticed the prince as well.  _ Storms, they have archers too. _

He hated it, but Katsuki’s mind was made up. There was a way to accomplish both things, but it would be at his own risk. This decision might doom the prince either way, but he had to try. “Rikido,” he called. “You need to force your way through the last of the Parshendi’s lines and fortify the gemheart until I return. I’m going to babysit our dumb idiot of a prince so you better not screw this up.” 

Rikido smirked. “Go easy on the yelling once you get him will you? We don’t need the king up your ass for damaging his son’s ears,” he said, before turning around to shout orders to their men. 

Katsuki grasped Thunderclap in his hands, its now familiar weight a comfort. He broke into a sprint, swiping at Parshendi who tried to rush him, cutting them down with fluid ease as he made a mad dash towards the frozen prince. Shouto looked aghast, his face white, eyes wide with horror.  _ What in Damnation is that fool doing? _ As he ran, Katsuki swore under his breath, almost in time with his thundering footsteps. 

A Parshendi bow was aimed straight at the fool prince, but Katsuki was too far away to attack the archer. Letting out a ragged cry, he launched himself into the air, flying forward and swiping Thunderclap down through the air. It severed the arrow in two only a fraction of a second before the thing would have struck Shouto. Both halves of the arrow tumbled in the air, robbed of their velocity, harmlessly falling to the ground.

Katsuki changed course immediately, bolting towards the archer and cutting him down. Then, breathing heavily, he stomped over to the idiot prince, who seemed almost unaware of what had just happened.

“YOU STORMS-CURSED FOOL!” He yelled, almost dwarfing the sounds of the battlefield around him. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE?”

His yells seemed to bring Shouto back to the present. “I...the...I was…”

Katsuki slapped the prince across the face. “GET BACK TO THE COMMAND TENT! AND TRY NOT TO GET YOURSELF KILLED WHILE YOU’RE AT IT!”

Shouto numbly obeyed, stumbling his way back to the tent. Katsuki waved a few soldiers over, ordering them to watch over the prince, before turning back to the battle at hand.

It seemed he was all alone. Shouto had been at the edge of the battlefield, and though this side of the plateau had been the one the human troops had approached from, there were no human soldiers around to give him aid. Parshendi seemed to notice the lone Shardbearer in their midst, and rather than cower like Alethi opponents might have, they seemed invigorated by the challenge, forming up in duos to surround Katsuki. He gritted his teeth, his grip on Thunderclap tightening. This would be tricky. He was used to fighting in the battlefield with his men at his back, giving him aid if he needed it. Though he was a better soldier than most, especially with his Blade, the sheer amount of Parshendi who now approached intimidated him.

He swiped with clean, quick strokes, cutting down Parshendi who got too close. As always, they didn’t back down from his display of skill and strength. A few lunged at him, and those that stayed back knocked arrows into their bows and remained ready to fire. Enemy after enemy attacked him, and Katsuki managed to remain untouched, slicing through each of them. His breathing was harsh and ragged, his muscles aching. At this rate, he might take down some fifty Parshendi, but he would still fall. Where were the Aizawa soldiers? Could they not see he was in trouble?

Then, in mere moments, the Parshendi archers that had stayed back fell, letting out grunts of pain. Aizawa spearmen stood in impeccable formation behind them, perfectly positioned to take them down all at once. The Parshendi closer to Katsuki reacted late, and the soldiers killed them with a few well-placed stabs. In no time at all, Katsuki was saved.

“Good work,” he rasped, but it felt like he had barely any breath left in him to speak.

“Thank the prince, Brightlord,” one man replied. “He noticed you were in trouble, and gave us quick orders to save you. I don’t know how we were able to take down that many Parshendi at once, but that Prince Shouto, he’s got a mind for this sort of thing, I tell you.”

_ Shouto _ had saved him? Katsuki didn’t have time to linger in the hot wash of anger and embarrassment that went down his back. “The gemheart?”

“Our men have secured it, but runners say they’re having troubles. The Parshendi are overwhelming them. At this rate, we’ll win the plateau, but lose the prize.”

Katsuki growled out a curse. “Damnation. What do the generals suggest?”

The man shrugged. “They’ve been scrambling to salvage the battle. Haven’t heard word from them in some time.”

Katsuki left the men, stomping over to the nearby command tent. “I need a strategy, now!”

The Aizawa generals looked panicked and exasperated, and they cowered before his yell. In stark contrast to his earlier state, however, Shouto stood in poised confidence over the map of the plateau in the middle of the tent, clearly recovered from the shock of the battle from before. “We’re losing the gemheart.”

“I storming know we’re losing the gemheart!” Katsuki yelled. “Now give me a plan so I can get it back!”

Shouto looked over the table. “We’ll have to make a push. Gather as many men as we can, form them up around you, and cut our way clear to the chrysalis. Kill as many Parshendi as possible, scare them away. The far left side is much more steep and easier to lose balance, we’d have an advantage if we could push them there. Once we have the gemheart, they’ll flee.” He looked up and met Katsuki’s eyes with resolve that had been utterly absent earlier. “It will be a risk. Can you do it?”

“Who do I storming look like?” Katsuki spat. “Get me my men! I’m starting the rush to the chrysalis now!”

Katsuki left the command tent behind as Shouto gave orders to runners. The men nearby were clearly already aware of the plan, and they began to form up around Katsuki. Thunderclap in hand, Katsuki broke into a light jog, cutting down any Parshendi in his way. Though his legs burned, all he wanted to do was sprint, get to the chrysalis as fast as possible, but with so many bodies in his path he was forced to go agonizingly slow. Still, the Parshendi, in the heat of their presumed victory, seemed to be getting sloppy, and were unable to defend against the pure rage Katsuki put behind each swing of his Shardblade. Their warriors seemed to shy away as more and more men joined the group following Katsuki, a chull of death and destruction lumbering across the plateau, unstoppable. Like Shouto predicted, the enemy had loose footing as they were pushed more towards the left side and were more eager to leap away in fear of falling down the chasm altogether. 

Then, the chrysalis appeared. Smiles of relief appeared on the faces of the men Katsuki had ordered to hold the chrysalis earlier, and a few gave out whoops of triumph. Katsuki walked up to the rocky shell, and unceremoniously slammed Thunderclap into it, cutting through the layers of rock and slime and meat. Digging his hand inside, he found something hard and round, and pulled out a gem covered in gross bodily fluids. He held it up in the air victoriously, and cheers from his men erupted all around him. That spark of satisfaction at defeating an opponent filled him up, but it was dulled as he remembered who had facilitated their victory--not any of the Aizawa generals, but Shouto, the Half and Half Prince. 

He’d come up with a good strategy, Katsuki reluctantly admitted. Risky, but sound. Exactly the type Katsuki liked. Despite the prince’s earlier near-death experience, he’d proven that he knew what he was doing in a strategy tent. It stung to admit it, but Shouto wasn’t totally incompetent.

Katsuki led his men back to the warcamps, tired, but triumphant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote nale's balls at one point and realized my mistake last second because i keep on forgetting that he isn't real smh
> 
> *edit* I ALSO FORGOT TO FIX THAT IN THE SUMMARY OML


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